A Chance in Time
by MachiavellianParadox
Summary: Having won the war, a tired Harry goes back in time to try to kill Tom Riddle as a child. What he did not predict however, was becoming attached to the boy. Realising that he couldn't kill him, Harry pretends that Tom is his brother in hopes of changing him and thus changing the future for the better. AU. No pairings. No slash. Some angst and some humour.
1. Chapter 1 Stole

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any familiar characters. All rights go to J.K Rowling, Warner Bros etc. I'm not doing this for profit.

Warnings: Some parts may be heavy angst, but other's will be light hearted. Generally, I've decided it's a T to be on the safe side. No heavy swearing. Mentions of child abuse/ neglect, descriptions of war (haven't decided if it will be well described in gore or not, but will let you know;) ).

On with the show.

A Chance in Time

Chapter 1: Stole

Thunder and lightning decorated the black sky as rain pelted against the closed windows of Wool's Orphanage. It rattled the glass and sent shivers across the shoulders and spine of a child sleeping fitfully in a cot within the groaning orphanage.

Tom Riddle mumbled in his sleep and pulled his thin blanket up to his neck. He knew he had a fever before he went to sleep that night; clammy skin was the first clue and fatigue soon followed. He had excused himself early from the last meal of the day – something that children in this orphanage never dismissed so easily, especially when portions were so small – and thrown himself onto his bed. He was asleep within minutes.

Now after almost six hours of sleep, Tom opened his eyes groggily and willed the pain in his head to disappear, instead he heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps within his room.

_It could be one of the children, trying to scare the freak_, Tom thought blearily.

Tom stopped moving and listened again. Yes, there was definitely movement but the sounds outside were so _loud _–

The floor creaked with every footfall and Tom slowly opened his eyed to peak through thick eyelashes.

Yes, there was definitely someone is his room. A man by the looks of it, soaked to the bone with rain, holding a... _stick_ in his firm grasp.

Thunder _or was it lightning_ illuminated the face of the trespasser to reveal startling green eyes staring right back at him.

Tom's breath caught in his throat as he tried to keep still.

The man, no _boy_, cocked his head to one side and gazed at him intensely as if trying to discern something incredibly important. He took one step towards the prone form of Tom and stopped still so suddenly that Tom whimpered in fear.

"Please," Tom whispered. He wasn't stupid. He had heard the stories: of children being stolen from their beds, of people going missing, of child abductors – not that Ms Cole had told them about it. But he had _heard_ and he knew that this stranger was going to harm him.

At the sound of Tom's plea, the stranger closed his eyes and grimaced. It seemed that he was having a monumental internal struggle with himself. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and clenched his jaw so tightly that Tom could see his muscles working.

His head bowed down so that his fringe fell forward and the stranger knelt before Tom's cot. _As if he was about to start a prayer_, thought Tom.

Slowly, the stranger opened his eyes and said so quietly that Tom almost leaned forward to catch what he said: "I can't kill you. I'm not like him."

Sweat tickled Tom's face as he tried to quiet his breathing, to sound less afraid, but the fever was doing all sorts of things to his brain. He closed his eyes and willed his hallucination to disappear, because there simply couldn't be a stranger in his room in the middle of the night. A stranger mumbling to himself about not killing him. It was the fever talking, _it had to be_.

Wasn't it?

A cool hand rested on his forehead bringing with them a sigh that ruffled Tom's hair. How did he get so close? _Never mind, as long as he promised _not_ to kill me,_ Tom thought and he gave his own sigh of appreciation and welcomed the coldness as the fever continued to rage on.

"You're just a child," was the last thing he heard before he succumbed to the welcoming pull of sleep. "You're just a boy."

* * *

Harry Potter looked down at the tiny form of Tom Riddle, the boy that would one day destroy his life; destroy his world, and thought how helpless his enemy looked just then.

"You're just a child," he found himself saying as his hand reached out to rest against the boy's fevered brow. He sighed wearily.

Somehow, he had pictured a more menacing character – even after watching the memories in Dumbledore's pensieve – Tom Riddle was as innocent-looking as any other eight year old boy.

"You're just a boy."

Seeing him like this; like any other child, Harry found that he couldn't do what he had intended to do when he jumped the time plane as planned. He had been so...sure...when he was planning. It had been so easy to just say that he was going to destroy Lord Voldermort before he became Lord Voldermort.

Easier said than done.

He sighed again and put away his newly acquired wand back inside his jacket pocket.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't. There must be an alternative way than just killing him. He wasn't the same as Him. He was good, he was light. Pure. He couldn't kill a child.

Tired eyes stared sadly at the boy before he made up his mind and scooped him up in his arms – thin blanket and all – and carried him down to the Kitchens. There, Harry sat with little Tom resting his head against his chest while he contemplated his new plan.

* * *

When Tom woke again, it was to the sound of a heart beat under his ear. He lifted his head, which felt like he had cotton wool stuffed inside it, and squinted at the firm chest that he was laying against.

Dark hair that was not his own brushed against his brow and he looked up to meet the familiar eyes of the stranger he saw earlier.

Tom stiffened and gulped nervously; his hands forming into fists before he knew it, ready to strike –

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Tom," the stranger said.

Tom frowned, "I can do anything I want."

The stranger smiled. Yes, he was definitely just a boy. "My name is Sebastian."

"I don't care what _your_ name is. I want to know how you know _mine._"

"Oh," the stranger said, titling his head to look down at Tom. "That part is easy," he smiled, "We're brother's you and I; and I've come to take you home where you belong."

Tom gasped, which sounded loud in the quite house despite it being so quite. "Brothers" he whispered.

Sad eyes looked down at him. The boy named Sebastian nodded.

"Where?" Tom whispered again, and he received an answer he had only ever heard in his dreams

"Home."


	2. Chapter 2 New Beginnings

**A Chance in Time**

Disclaimer in first chapter.

**AN:** the Elder Wand is not destroyed. Harry has possession of that. I've decided that the last Horcrux in Harry has not been destroyed – it will explain a few things about Harry's behaviour later on in the chapters. Plus, please take into account that Harry left a few months after the Final Battle. The story is becoming more AU and there are several spoilers for the last three books so watch out.

**Chapter 2: New Beginnings**

It was forty-seven minutes past midnight when Harry finally put Tom down onto the neighbouring seat beside him, in the Kitchens, and stood up.

A list of things scampered into his mind reminding him of the ruined plan that he had set before coming to the orphanage.

_I have a new plan now_, thought Harry, _a plan that first involves getting Tom out of here as unobtrusively as possible._

And how the hell was he going to do that? He couldn't just waltz into Ms Cole's – the orphanage owner – and demand that Tom is under _his_ care now, could he? There had to be something that he could do so that no one would miss the eight year-old boy should he go missing.

When_ he goes missing_, Harry thought with determination. Oh, yes, Harry was very settled on to do this now. Especially now that he discovered that he was too much of a Gryffindor to kill a child. Too noble. Too righteous. Sometimes he wished he was a Slytherin...

_But you are, aren't you?_ Reminded a voice in his head, who for some reason sounded a lot like Snape.

Harry urged the voice down. Heart beating a little too fast for his taste: he had been having panic attacks for the past few months now ever since the battle ended and even worse when arrived in 1934; ever since he found himself thinking about the consequences of his travel to the past, of the unusual and dark powers that he had inherited from Voldermort, of his friends left behind, both dead and alive, of the possibility of never returning –

For a second he struggled to slow down his breathing, sweat forming on his forehead and the palms of his hands, and knowing that Tom was still staring at him from his seat panicked him further. He flushed with embarrassment. Luckily for him, Tom didn't say a word. Harry could only imagine what he looked like too him: rain-sodden, wild hair tamed somewhat as it plastered onto his forehead, trembling, breathing like he was on the verge of hyperventilating...

And for Merlin's sake, _standing over a child while they slept?_ Any normal child would have been scared. They would have screamed and raved. Not Tom, though, he just looked at him with expectation and a quiet eagerness.

_But Tom's not a normal child, is he?_

Squaring his shoulders, Harry took deep breaths and turned to Tom, eyes careful and unintimidating. He had to get in control of this.

"Tom," he began, "I-I have to...speak to Ms Cole. Where is she?"

Tom looked up at him in confusion and Harry could only assume that he sounded really stupid.

"Yes, I know it's the middle of the night, well...it's morning now, but," Harry looked at Tom imploringly, "but don't you want to leave _now_?" he added.

He knew that he got through to him when Tom's eyes widened excitedly.

"Yes," he whispered, dark eyes piercing. "I _want _to leave _now_, Sebastian."

* * *

Tom squinted up at Sebastian in the darkness of the Kitchens and tried to focus through the pounding in his skull.

"Won't she get angry?" Tom asked slowly. "If you wake her up now, won't she be angry? You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to have _meetings_ and do _paperwork_ and...lots of things."

Sebastian didn't even blink.

"Leave that to me," he said and Tom found himself trusting him. Believing him.

"She's up stairs, her room is to the left near the attic door...Sebastian?"

"Yes, Tom?"

"How do I know?"

Sebastian stopped craning his neck trying to look past the door. "Know what?"

Tom sighed as if the question was simple enough. "How do I know that you are who you say you are? How do I_ know_? Are you really my brother?"

Sebastian ran his hand through his thick, messy hair and sighed roughly. He moved towards him, one step then two and then kneeled in front of Tom's huddled form.

Those brilliant green eyes stared back at him and for a while Sebastian didn't say anything. Tom listened to the clock hanging next to the door and likened its pace to the thud of Sebastian's heart when had laid his head on his chest earlier on.

"I will tell you something that may explain a few things about you – things that made no sense at first, things that probably got you into trouble," Sebastian said slowly – and carefully.

Tom pulled his blanket tighter around himself. "Something about _me_?" _Something that has made me alone and miserable yet powerful and in control. _He knew what Sebastian was going to say, he was talking about –

"Magic, Tom," Sebastian's eyes grew more intense. "It exists. And you have it. You see, Tom, you are a Wizard."

Tom gulped and leaned forward excitedly. He never usually showed how he felt to people. He was always a freak. No one cared about the freak so no one ever asked about the freaks feelings.

"I'm a Wizard too, Tom, just like you," Sebastian smiled fondly cutting him off his thoughts, Sebastian was starring off into space now, "magic is amazing, Tom, we have our own World, our own Schools and Government. Everything, Tom, we have it."

Tom gulped again. "And I belong in this World, too?" He sincerely hoped that he hadn't sounded so, wistful like a girl.

"_Yes_," Sebastian, leaned forward, and placed both hands on his arms just below his shoulders. "Yes, we belong in this World. But you asked if we are truly brothers?"

Tom nodded expectantly.

"Then I will tell you. It's a long story, but...you and I are from a line of Wizards that many fear. We have an ability, something that marks us different from other wizards..."

Tom moved to the edge of his seat, as much as the hands would let him. "What is it?"

Here Sebastian stopped. "We can speak to snakes. It's...a language. And no one else can speak it."

Tom shook his head. There were many incidents when he was found hissing at snakes in the garden...but, was that a language? A language not even other freaks like him can speak?

"Tell me more," Tom begged. "Do the other freaks fear us?"

Sebastian stopped dead still. "Freaks?"

"Yeah; like us. You and I and every other person that can do magic. Freaks. Abnormal –"

"_Tom."_ Sebastian said angrily. "Where did you hear this? Who said this to you?" His grip on Tom's shoulder became tighter and Tom squirmed.

"You're hurting me."

Sebastian froze and quickly let go off him like he was on fire and stumbled a few steps away from him.

Tom and Sebastian stared at each other; one had a look of wonder and the other a look of _utter sadness_.

"I'm –I'm sorry. Tom, I'm sorry. I didn't mean –" Sebastian buried his face in his hands and rubbed it tiredly.

"Why are you so sad?" Tom asked.

Sebastian snorted derisively "I'm not sad. Just tired."

Tom watched the panic in Sebastian's eyes slowly fade and _really_ looked at him while the elder started to pace the kitchen floor. There wasn't much room there but Sebastian didn't seem to mind.

He was short. That was the first thing that ran in Tom's mind. How old was he? Sixteen or seventeen, maybe? Or maybe he was like Tom: looking a few years younger than he actually is. _Food malnutrition would do that to you_, he thought bitterly.

Did Sebastian grow up in an orphanage, too? He had to remember to ask that to him later. How similar were they?

Tom rubbed his eyes and took in his appearance some more. Black hair, as dark as his own, pale skin, as pale as his own. But where Tom was thin and bony, Sebastian was broad-shouldered and more filled out. Tom titled his head sideways, maybe that's what he would look like when he was older. Like his brother.

Suddenly, Sebastian turned towards him and Tom jumped slightly.

"Stay here, Tom," he said.

* * *

Pacing slowly, Harry thought carefully about the situation at hand. He couldn't kidnap Tom; there would be people all over it. He wanted it to be as quiet and normal as possible.

But –

He turned to Tom, berating himself mentally when he realised how sudden his movements were when Tom jumped in his seat.

"Stay here, Tom," Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "I know you're not feeling well right now, Tom, but please, just hang in there for me, alright?"

When Tom nodded, Harry turned around and strode down the corridor to where he knew the offices where.

He had some forging to do.

He had decided – Tom Riddle wasn't going to exist much longer in the Muggle world. Oh sure, he was born there with a birth certificate, but after that, as of last night, Tom Riddle was taken in by his brother, Sebastian White.

_An inconspicuous name for a time-meddler,_ Harry thought ruefully, remembering the name he had been using for the past month in the new time-plane, _yes, vague enough._

How would his friends feel if they saw him now: with a fake name, pretending to be a descent of Salazar Slytherin himself just so that he can impersonate Tom Riddle's non-existent brother? Just so that he can change the future? He could imagine Ron's blank face, the face he had developed ever since his brother died; and Hermione's tears of frustration and sadness.

He hoped to Merlin he wasn't making a mistake.

He shook his head to dislodge any unpleasant thoughts that could possibly make him change his mind again. _No, it's settled,_ Harry thought, _I'm going through with this_.

With that he went to begin the second part of the plan.

The office wasn't hard to find. Located near the entrance of the house, it gave the matrons clear view of the garden and anyone coming through the front door: an excellent vantage for spying on the children. The door was locked but he had magic for that.

He held the new and unusual wand in his hand. It was second hand, but that wasn't going to deter him. The Elder Wand was in his bags at the rented house in Hogsmead, along with his other belongings, whilst his precious wand that he had ever since his first year of Hogwarts was destroyed in the few days before the Final Battle.

There was no way he was going to use the Elder Wand; he had felt dirty the moment he touched it. It sent shivers of disgust through his body when he realised how many Wizards and Witches died trying to posses it. Nevertheless, he still wondered why he took the wand with him in the first place. Regardless: he had no choice but to steal a wand from a passing witch. It was longer and thinner than his old one was and didn't work as wonderfully, but it still did the job.

After a confident and quiet _Alohomora_, Harry strode into the office and located shelves of books and manuals, and to his right a whole cabinet dedicated to the children living at the orphanage both past and present.

Using a _Lumos_, Harry set out to find Tom's folder and his eyes widened comically when he did: the sheer size of his records...

_Probably worse than mine at Hogwarts_, Harry though, smiling thinly. He flicked through the papers and found multiple things that Tom was accused on: childish things and...things that couldn't be explained. _Well,_ Harry thought, _I was prepared for that_, Dumbledore told him enough things about Tom's behaviour at the orphanage that really there was no way he should be surprised.

His mind went back to what Tom said earlier. He had called himself a "freak". The same way Harry did when he had lived with the Dursley's as a child; when he knew nothing about Witchcraft and the word "magic" was banned from the house with severe consequences. And how did he react? By shouting a fevered young boy...

Unclenching his jaw, Harry began rifling through the cabinets and folder after folder until he found a stack of forms one would use for the start of an adoption. _Close enough,_ he thought. He was not going to be his father but Harry was going to be the closest thing to a relative Tom would ever have.

Sitting down at the table, Harry filled in the forms as best as possible, pretending to have signed it months ago and hesitated slightly when he had to make up a date of birth and a different fake address. He made out to be the same age as before, only seventeen, before he crossed it out and wrote twenty-four. He didn't want the authorities to think he was unable to raise an eight year-old child. _Even though you can't_, Snape's cynical voice told him and Harry nodded in agreement.

"What else am I supposed to do, Snape? I have no choice," Harry whispered to himself. He signed a few more papers and using past papers that Ms Cole has signed through, forged her signature, too and a bunch of other authorities involved.

That done, Harry left the papers on the desk in a big brown envelope and made his way to where Tom told him Ms Cole slept.

Wand in grasp, Harry climbed up the stairs and tried to remember the correct wand movement for _Obliviate_.

* * *

Tom sat patiently downstairs in the Kitchens. Soon he will be saying goodbye to the orphanage. He looked around and made a list of all the things he would not miss: the poor clothes, the disgusting food, the tiny little bedroom, that bully Billy Samuels and his sidekick Frankie McKinnin...but more importantly; he would not miss being alone, being afraid, hating everyday more and more, hating people every day of his life, the stupid way people either pity him or hate him.

Not that they pitied him for long after he got revenge...Oh, yes, he definitely got his own back on several children. Tom sighed, well that was one thing he _was_ going to miss, scaring the other children to the point of nightmare.

Nevertheless, he knew he'd like it where he and Sebastian were going – it didn't matter where, as long as it wasn't _here_. As long as he had a _home_.

But...was he going to be safe with Sebastian? He had heard him whispering to himself earlier. He had _heard_. Sebastian said he _wasn't _going to kill him, right? Did he want to kill Tom and then changed his mind? If that was the story then he was safe, right?

But what if he changed his mind back?

Tom's thoughts stopped suddenly when he heard light footsteps coming down the stairs and in came Sebastian with a small, grey, battered backpack in his hand.

He stepped towards Tom and gestured towards the bag. Tom didn't even blush when he realised that all his belongings fit into one measly little thing.

"It has all your belongings in them. Have I missed anything out? Is there anything else you would like to bring with you?"

Thoughts ran through Tom's mind. He could back out now if he wanted to. He can scream for help and...

And be trapped here forever.

"No," Tom said, without looking into his bag. "That's everything." He extended his hand towards Sebastian's. "I'm ready now, Sebastian. I'm ready to leave."

Slowly, Sebastian reached out and took his hand.

* * *

**AN:** Don't worry, Harry will remain seventeen in the story, he just wanted to make sure his/ Tom's records wouldn't be chased up when they realised how young he was. Let me know if it gets confusing with whole name switching from Sebastian to Harry and back again. I want to set it so that Harry considers Sebastian as a character he has to play, because there's there no way in hell he would sympathise with Tom otherwise. It's not healthy, but Harry's changed as you'll see in the next chapters.


	3. Chapter 3 Welcome Home

**AN: **Just a reminder,** a**s I had said earlier, the last Horcrux is still inside Harry – he just doesn't know it. I'll be explaining the effects of this after this chapter update today. Also Harry had inherited some of Voldermort's powers when he killed him in the final battle. The combination of both of these things will have a tremendous and detrimental effect on Harry's soul, as you'll find later.

**A Chance in Time**

**Chapter 3 – Welcome Home**

It was the third time that Tom tripped on the concrete slabs, of the pathway leading out of the Orphanage and into public pavements, when Harry finally offered to carry him.

Tom sighed and rubbed his eyes with little fists for the umpteenth time. He sniffled quietly and finally shot a half-glare at Harry before telling him clearly that he _wasn't a baby, Sebastian._

Harry gave up on that front but he still found himself amused at his own behaviour. Honestly, offering his enemy a piggyback ride? What was next, braiding each other's hair?

The small smirk on his face dropped slightly when he reminded himself that Tom wasn't an enemy anymore. Tom was just...his brother.

Family.

And hadn't he always wanted a family? A mum and a dad. A Godfather, a Godson and an honorary uncle or even growing up and getting married and having twice the number of children as the Weasleys...

Merlin, he missed them all.

Tom tripped again and Harry sighed; feeling an unusual feeling in his belly that felt akin to pity and worse - _guilt._

Guilt; for not knowing enough spells or having any potions that could relieve Tom of his cold – or whatever the hell he was having. Guilt; that he wasn't there sooner.

"OK there, Tom?"

"I'm not a baby, _I said,_" Tom growled out low behind clenched teeth. It didn't make him sound intimidating. If anything it made him sound cute.

_Cute? Dear Merlin, save me._

* * *

Sebastian was acting weird. Weirder than before – _not that he'd known him for long_ – and Tom was finding it hard catching up with all the different emotions that played on his face. If he hadn't felt so nauseous, he would probably try to guess each one.

Tom yawned again and promptly tripped over another tuft of grass growing between the cracks in the concrete. The feeling jolted his aching head further and he praised himself silently for not whimpering out aloud.

He heard Sebastian sigh and Tom wrapped his blanket more loosely around his shoulders. He was feeling hot now, but he knew he would feel the chill again in a few seconds time because of the fever. If he remembered correctly, later he'd be _very_ hungry.

In response to thinking about food, Tom's stomach did a little flip-flop of disgust and for a second he thought he actually _would_ throw up.

He breathed deeply through his mouth. He was good at looking after himself, he always knew that. What other choice was there? But having Sebastian around meant that someone else would care for him, right?

Well...Sebastian was nice to him, he knew _that _much: he had asked to carry Tom even though he looked very tired as well and was walking slowly so that they could walk side-by-side instead of making Tom trail behind him like a toddler. He never had much of a childhood. Maybe having someone care for him and sometimes treating him like a baby would be nice, too.

"OK there, Tom?" Sebastian asked.

"I'm not a baby, _I said._"

Yes, it would definitely be nice.

* * *

In the short amount of time of being around Tom, Harry had started thinking differently. For one, what did he care if Tom wanted to hold his hand when they crossed the road? And secondly, he was more determined than ever in showing that he could be a protector.

He wasn't the type the of protector the Wizarding World needed in the Final Battle. Sure, he had destroyed the Horcruxes and killed Voldermort and his merry band of Death Eaters...but he had help from Ron and Hermione, from the Order of the Phoenix, from Dumbledore and even from Snape. Had he been on his own, he would have died years ago; probably when his mother sacrificed herself for him.

The War had lasted so long. If he had been smarter and quicker, destroying Voldermort would have been such an easy feat.

Harry had to _learn_ to be a protector. That way, he could protect Tom from evil and darkness and from being hurt and being a _human_. At least then Tom would have a decent childhood. At least then, Tom would not become Lord Voldermort.

"What's that?" Tom's small, childish voice cut through his thoughts abruptly reminding him that he still had a long way to go before he even started puberty let alone become a Dark Lord.

Harry looked down to find Tom looking at his hand to where he was still holding onto his wand. He frowned as he wondered how long he had been holding it for: it had become like another appendage to him.

He realised Tom was still waiting for an answer. "It's a wand, Tom; for magic."

"A wand?" Tom asked disbelievingly. "You mean like abracadabra?" he smirked raising his eyebrows, obviously thinking of the frauds that muggles where used to.

A shiver went through Harry as he likened the word to another more meaningful word.

"Yeah, like that, I guess, except, you know, it's _not."_

Tom stared at him as if he was sharing a conversation with a madman. And maybe he was.

Well no one ever said Harry Potter was ever articulate. "Like _almost_ like abracadabra," he tried again and shook his head. He was quite bad and describing things. "But you have to be trained for using a wand. There are laws and everything to make sure you don't hurt yourself or others. Or even kill."

"Kill?" Tom asked eyes big.

"Yeah." Harry said slowly. "Or blasting your bum off if you leave it in your back pocket...Stuff like that...," he trailed of, smiling sadly as he remembered Moody's advice.

Tom was still staring at him in that way again – like he wanted to ask why Harry was sad. Harry wouldn't even know how to begin to answer that question.

"We're getting on a bus, now," Harry said and not waiting for Tom's answer, he extended his wand and was happy to see the purple, double-decker bus arrive in front of his feet.

Harry turned to face Tom to gauge his reaction whilst the Night Bus conductor rattled on the usual welcome speech. He was pleased to see that Tom had the same ridiculous expression on his face as Harry's when he had first seen real magic.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Harry whispered.

Tom only stared.

* * *

Tom bounced in his seat again. It was only a bus, really, but what bus just popped out of the sky and landed in front of you when you pointed a funny-looking stick to the air? What bus was _purple_, for crying out loud?

He had a feeling that the other Freaks where going to have very strange ideas once he met them. How else were they going to live to their names?

He wiped his runny nose across his sleeves and grimaced. He felt very yucky, icky and gross, which he knew all meant that same thing.

He put his backpack onto the floor and looked outside, only to look back into the bus again: he was never doing that again. How fast was this thing going?

"Here you go, pet."

Tom looked up from underneath his sweat-soaked fringe and gazed at the plump women in front of him. She was extending a sky-blue handkerchief towards him.

For him? "For me?" Tom asked.

The woman looked at him encouragingly. "Of course, love, looks like you need it," she smiled warmly.

For _him?_

He knew people were watching now – taking in how he was still in his worn, grey-stripped pyjamas and was obviously ill. They took in his pale complexion and the little blanket bunched up into a ball under his armpit. They took in the older boy beside him that looked a lot like him and how he was smiling kindly back at the woman.

"Thank you, that's very kind," Sebastian said when Tom carried on staring at the woman blankly.

Tom quickly repeated what he said quietly and wondered why the woman wanted to help him. Can't she see he was just an orphan? He was nothing special. Nothing special at all.

_I wish she'd stop looking at me like that,_ Tom thought annoyed. No one should be pitied. _No one._

"Taking him to St. Mungo's are you?" the woman asked.

Sebastian only smiled.

The woman leaned forward in her seat to get a better look at Tom, giving him that pitying look again. Tom and Sebastian both leaned backwards.

Didn't Sebastian say they were going home? Where was home anyway? Was it a big house or a small house? Did it have a garden? He liked gardens on the off chance there was a snake to talk to. But he didn't need snakes anymore; he had Sebastian to talk to whenever he wanted.

Nah.

And just what was St. Mungo's _anyway?_

* * *

It wasn't long before they arrived at Hogsmead and for the first time, Harry grabbed hold of Tom's hand to guide him through the busy streets. Despite it being very early morning, Hogsmead was still as lively. Early commuters where beginning their journeys, early risers had begun setting up their businesses, and it will be even more lively as the day progressed.

Harry pretended that he didn't feel strange holding onto his hand but couldn't resist but look down every few minutes to marvel at how _tiny_ Tom's hands looked. They were at least half the size of Harry's.

_That's because he's a _child_, you dunderhead,_ said Snape's voice.

"Shut up, Snape."

"What?"

"Nothing, Tom."

* * *

To answer Sebastian's earlier question, yes, yes, yes, it _is _amazing. _So_ amazing that he almost squealed in excitement.

Except that that would be childish.

He couldn't believe it, a whole new world, a world where he can be as Abnormal as he wanted. And he got to do it all with his brother. Fate has been kind to him, maybe it realised how much it screwed up Tom's life and felt sorry for him.

Now, he could have anything he wanted. A home, an education, friends. This was the start to something new. First though...

"Sebastian?" Tom asked.

His brother turned to face him and held his hand more tightly.

"I'm going to be sick."

* * *

_How in the world did I get into this mess?_ Harry thought derisively and paused waiting for Snape's sardonic reply. Nothing.

He was truly alone.

Tom mumbled and moved in his arms, and Harry tightened his hold on the little figure. Harry had remembered how much Tom had vomited; how there was hardly anything to vomit – just bile and the retching that wracked his whole body. When he had finished, Harry had spelled him clean and picked him up. Tom was so tired that he didn't even complain. A few minutes later, Tom had laid his heavy head on Harry's shoulder and fell asleep.

Tom mumbled again, breathing heavily. He exhaled warm puffs of air against Harry's neck and Harry wished he had more hands to scratch that spot. Instead he repositioned Tom better in his hands and made his way to Doherty's Inn just behind the Hog's Head and a smelly looking alley filled with rotting vegetables and old waste.

Home sweet home.

* * *

The first time Tom woke it was to the sound of Sebastian's pacing up and down a very small room. He was placed onto a narrow bed at one corner of this room opposite the door. His first thought was that it was very dark and cramped. His second thought was that despite the uncomfortable and lumpy bed, he could sleep forever.

The second time Tom woke up, he was alone. "Sebastian?" he called tiredly.

There was no reply.

* * *

Harry couldn't do this alone, he couldn't raise a child alone, but he didn't know anyone that he could trust to help him. If Harry wanted to succeed at this, he would have to start trusting people, start letting people back into life again like before the war. He had to try to live normally, again. Or –

Or he could put this whole thing behind him and return Tom back to the Orphanage.

* * *

**AN:** I know, I know! Not much happened in this chapter, but I thought I'd dedicate a whole chapter to Tom's new world and seeing magic for the first time. Plus, the next chapter will be more important – basically, the story will kick off more from there.


	4. Chapter 4 Transitions

**A Chance in Time**

**AN:** This chapter starts off the next set of events. Harry is doing some serious thinking and Tom is re-evaluating the situation. The title of this chapter is basically a summary of Harry and Tom's gradual move into trusting each other. Apologies now for the heavy angst

**Chapter 4 – Transitions**

A hungry and tired Harry had been walking aimlessly through the village of Hogsmead for the best part of an hour. He had no specific place he desired to be, his only destination was towards an answer for some way his brain could catch up with this ridiculous dilemma he seemed to be stuck in. At least then he could figure out how to resolve the teensy little problem of disserting an eight year-old boy, who had just discovered that he was a wizard, in the middle of one of the most busiest and popular part of magical Britain.

_I'm a bad person,_ Harry thought to himself. _ A lowly, disgusting, _terrible_ human being. How did all this happen? How did I let it -? _Tears of frustration filled his eyes and he blinked to clear them away, but the treacherous tears kept coming. A lump formed in his throat making him choke out a gasp.

"Gods, what am I going to _do_?"

Using the sleeves of his hooded-jumper, he tried fruitlessly to wipe his tears away, breathing deeply to quell the urge of having a panic attack in the middle of a crowded Hogsmead morning. He found himself walking slowly as businessmen and early shoppers and commuters rushed past him, some pushing him aside and some outright barging into him only to mumble a hasty apology and carry on with their journey. Harry observed them idly, wondering how desperately he wanted – no _needed _– to have something to make him so busy like that, too. Something that could take his mind off about the damage he was doing to himself and focus on the sole deal of charging into the past in the first place: to change the future.

He was glad that he had established that killing Tom was out of the question and that raising him was probably the best idea here...how else could he change the past? He had to start at the beginning; before Tom became entangled in bitter and seductive darkness. Before he became introduced to magic and his past in such a way that Tom's soul is destroyed.

And that meant taking him out of the orphanage, right? Being there hadn't helped him before: he was alone and afraid and having Ms Cole and the children that never understood or feared him breathing down his neck definitely wouldn't have helped.

Harry wondered if Tom had woken up yet, if he had looked around the little room at the Inn and panicked – panicked the same way that Harry was. And oh, Merlin, he was having a panic attack in the middle of the streets.

Harry stopped suddenly, becoming the target of many exclamations of surprise and annoyance. People continued to push past him irritably now, shouting and threatening.

"Move out of the way, you oaf!" cried out another voice before Harry finally couldn't control his breathing anymore. He dropped to his knees, one hand on the floor whilst the other clutched his head as stars danced in front of his eyes. He couldn't prevent the loud panting and gasping from leaving his lips.

"What's wrong with him? Hey you, boy!"

Harry ignored them all, whether he wanted to or not was not important. He was more worried that he would stop breathing any time soon or if he would accidently lash out with his magic like last time...

Red material peaked between the crowds. A few people had lagged behind to sit around him, talking to him. He shook cloudy and muddled head. Aurors – the red belonged to Aurors, and Harry began to feel dizzy with the suffocation of the crowd and now the added fear of him being caught out by the law.

"Boy, are you having a heart attack?"

"Do be quiet, Wilson, he obviously just slipped on the puddle he's sitting in –"

"Do you need St. Mungo's? My brother's a healer there and he can –"

"Sebastian?"

Harry's head snapped up wondering if his brain conjured up Tom's voice. But no, Tom was standing right there, holding onto a hand that belonged to a woman in a long red dress.

"T-Tom?" Sebastian wheezed clutching his chest.

o0o

Tom sat the edge of the bed and tried not to sniff too harshly like he did before – his nose was completely blocked and sniffing like that _hurt_. He had forgotten that part of being ill; the part where doing normal things like breathing even hurt.

He stood up calmly and stretched his hands up in the air trying to remove the kinks that developed when he fell asleep on his left side for too long. He knew Sebastian wasn't there with him; he couldn't see him anywhere in the room.

_He must have stepped out of the room for something,_ Tom thought logically, _or maybe he went to get breakfast._

With that Tom got off the bed and padded around the room and, trying to touch as little as possible so that he wouldn't be blamed if things became missing later, he located a pot where he could relieve himself and watched in awe as it disappeared afterwards.

Tom looked around his surroundings. The room was furnished simply: one narrow bed sitting under a small iron bar window with – what used to be – blue curtains, but now where grey, a table and a table-top mirror, as well as a few frames containing pictures of buildings that Tom could've sworn had moving clouds.

Tom smiled to himself imagining the magic behind that little trick as he tried to locate his shoes, which he couldn't seem to find. Wait –

Sebastian's wand.

Tom stopped still before he twisted his neck around to see if perhaps he had accidently missed Sebastian in the room somewhere.

"Sebastian, are you here?" No reply. Tom tried again. "Y-your wand..."

Tom frowned, suddenly fearful at the site of the forgotten wand. He had remembered how Sebastian said having a wand was important for making magic. Surely if that was the case, he wouldn't simply _leave_ it there, would he?

_Something has happened_, Tom's brain supplied.

Now what?

Without thinking, Tom quickly reached for the wand and ran out of the room barefooted.

_Something's wrong,_ Tom repeated in his head, again, _where is he?_

He gripped the piece of wood in his hand and made his way out into a dark corridor and was met with the sound of noise: laughter, singing, shouting...

With that Tom guessed that they were in a hotel of some sorts – or a bed-and-breakfast and that it may be that all the guests had congregated downstairs in the living room or something.

Walking slowly, Tom quickly found the stairs which – he was displeased to find in his shaken form– had no railings to hold onto. Each step creaked as he made his way down until he was at the bottom and there he saw that he was wrong; that he was actually in a pub of some sorts or an Inn.

"You there!" shouted a voice and Tom jumped slightly. He saw a burly man point towards a young woman. "Where is my breakfast?" the man shouted and Tom quickly ducked out of the way, and finally finding the door, he ran towards it. Ignoring shouts of protests as he ducked and dived between the other patrons, he made his way into the streets.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and gripped the strange wood tighter in his grasp, noticing for the first time that it was shaped perfectly with one pointed end and another blunt end. _Was this a magic crafted, too?_ he wondered. _If this wand was important for magic_, _no way_ _would Sebastian leave it behind._

More determined than ever in trying to find his brother, Tom began his search. He wished he hadn't forgotten his shoes as there were several puddles, of what he hoped was, only rain in his path. Gritting his teeth and telling himself that Sebastian _needed_ Tom to find him, he pushed past people to the other side of the street.

Using his small size, he tried to be as inconspicuous as possible; he managed to make his way further and further away from the Inn. It wasn't until ten minutes later that Tom began to worry that he wouldn't find Sebastian at all. And what if he couldn't find his way back to the Inn again?

Something in Tom's mind made him stop again and he carefully examined his thought: what if Sebastian didn't _want_ to be found? What if Sebastian had changed his mind just like Tom thought might happen?

_What if Sebastian never wanted me in the first place?_ Tom thought alarmed, remembering Sebastian in his room the first night he met him, recalling how he had whispered about not being able to kill him. Cold fingers gripped his gut, what if Sebastian was only acting?

But why would he want to kill Tom in the first place? Tom stood huddled near what he assumed was a sports shop and shivered. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried not to cry but couldn't help the sob that escaped him.

Sebastian had left him. Sebastain had _left_ him. He couldn't even remember his way back to the Inn – and even if he could, how was he going to pay for his stay there? And worse, it was starting to rain again.

He could taste the saltiness of his tears intermingled with the rain and tried to remind himself that _big boys don't cry_, but the prospect of going back to Ms Cole and the rest of the orphanage children made his heart break.

It wasn't until the rain had lessened that he finally looked up and saw a crowd of people surrounding...well, surrounding _something_. He couldn't see past them and he cursed his short form for the millionth time.

Wiping his face, he took one small step and then another, and soon he found himself walking faster to see what it was that had the crowd so interested. He had stopped crying now, but he couldn't prevent the shivers from wracking his body as his pyjamas stuck to him like second skin.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and gripped his shoulders. Tom spun round to meet the gaze of a tall, blonde woman. He gulped nervously, as he tried to hide the wand behind his back: he didn't want to be accused of being a thief.

"What are you doing out here?" she said quietly, and despite the loud hubbub Tom could still hear her clearly. She had a gentle voice and a kind face. Her shoulder-length, wavy hair framed her love-heart face.

Tom had never seen anyone so beautiful before.

Kind blue eyes looked at him imploringly before they quickly looked down from his bare, mud-soaked feet, past his pyjamas and up to his sodden hair.

"I'm..." Tom began and found himself unable to speak. Instead he released an undignified sob and rubbed his eyes, what was wrong with him? He was never so emotional before.

_You were never taken from your home before, either,_ Tom reminded himself.

The women bent down, folding her red silk dress around her and managed not to get it wet. She looked at him and even patted his wet hair, and Tom blushed apologetically, hating that she had to touch someone as lowly as himself. She extended her umbrella with a flick of her wand so that it covered Tom, too, and Tom's heart soared at her kindness.

Was she going to help him, too? Just like the woman on the purple bus did?

"Pl-please, I needed to find..." another sob, "I need to find my way _home_!"

"What is your name, who are your parents?"

"I-I'm Tom, but that's not _important." _Tom cried burying his head in the crook of his elbow.

"And where is your home, my darling?" the woman asked understanding his distress.

"My home? No! I mean, I need to find Sebastian, he's supposed to be there at..." Tom hiccoughed loudly and rubbed his eyes. Sebastian was supposed to _be there_. Sebastian just _left him_.

"Be where, my love? And who's Sebastian?" she asked tilting her head to the side.

"My brother, he-he..." Tom suddenly stopped as he finally was able to make out words from the crowd.

"_Do be quiet, Wilson, he obviously just slipped on the puddle he's sitting in –"_

"Tom?" the woman asked tilting his head up to meet her clear-blue eyes.

"I'm lost," He finally breathed out.

The woman reached out again and wiped his tears with delicate fingers and ran her fingers through his hair again. "Don't you worry, my love, we will find your brother."

Tom shut his eyes tightly and tried not to melt under her ministrations. He nodded and thanked her quietly when she reached for his hand and began walking past the crowd.

Tom learned that the woman's name was Evangeline Malfoy, a Lady, she had said. She told him that she had a son his age, named Abraxas. Tom didn't ask about the unusual and out-dated names but he did hesitate when she asked him about his family again.

Tom shook his head in answer. "Sebastian is my family, Lady,"

Again, in case Tom had forgotten, Lady Malfoy promised that she would find Sebastain. Again, Tom thanked her and felt warmth in his belly. Why where magic people so much nicer than the non-magic people? Truly, it was the non-magic people who were the Freaks. He wasn't a freak at all.

He was a _wizard._

And wizards were strong, they didn't _cry like a baby_ and used magic, and had purple buses and angels that helped them without even asking.

"_Do you need St. Mungo's? My brother's a healer there and he can –"_

Lady Malfoy shook her head as she observed the crowd, her hair swishing around her shoulders. "What is happening here, do you think, Tom?" she asked.

For a second, Tom was surprised that she had asked for his opinion. "Umm," Tom began. What did he know about the magical world? He couldn't even _guess_ as to what was happening.

The crowd was obviously addressing someone at the heart of it. What was going on? The crowd moved slightly and Tom saw something that gripped his heart: it was a huddled figure all in black, sitting next to puddle. He had his head bowed with one hand in thick messy hair. He was obviously in pain.

That was Sebastian's wild mane of hair; he'd recognise that mess anywhere.

"Sebastian?" he called out and blood-shot, green eyes snapped up to meet his.

"T-Tom?"

o0o

Having glasses covered in rain made seeing very difficult, if only Harry had remembered his wand...But, regardless, that was definitely Tom's tear-streaked pink face he was seeing, and he was definitely holding onto a woman and _not_ an Auror as Harry had initially thought.

He watched as Tom let go of the woman's hand and pelted through the rain and the crowd to rush towards Harry.

"Sebastian, I knew it was you, I _knew_ it."

He didn't know what possessed him, and if someone asked him later he would completely deny it, but seeing Tom's sad yet hopeful face lessened the constricting pain in the chest and without knowing it, he grabbed Tom into a tight hug once he was within reach.

"Tom," he breathed. He knew now, he knew that Tom needed him, that Tom had ran from the safety of the Inn to find his 'brother' and he was obviously crying. Gods, he made a child cry. He was such as an _idiot._

"You must be Sebastian," said a voice, and Harry looked up to see the clear-blue eyes of the woman in red that Tom was with. Thankfully the crowd had started moving at the site of two and Harry could see her more clearly.

"S-Sebastian, this is Lady Malfoy, she helped me f-find you," Tom said bottom lip quivering and teeth chattering from the cold.

Harry couldn't trust himself to speak yet at the site of a Malfoy and was grateful when the woman did instead.

"Are you alright? My husband works a few minutes from here, I could call him –"

"No!" Harry cried, not wanting to be around Malfoy's again in his life. "No, I'm fine now; I'm used to it, _please_."

She looked a little distressed when he said that last part, that he was _used to it_. Used to pain and panic. "Are you sure?" she asked, eyebrows frowning.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. I don't need – _we_ don't need any help."

Tom buried his head in the crook of Harry's shoulder and sniffled, arms becoming tighter and tighter around his neck. "We're fine, now," Harry said more quietly, "but thank you so much for your help; I don't know what could've happened to him alone like that."

Lady Malfoy smiled kindly, and Harry thought that she was as beautiful as all the other Malfoy's he had met. "Let's get you out of the rain," she said and without waiting for an answer, she straightened up and gestured behind her to a cafe.

"Let me buy you breakfast."

Tom's head twisted round to look at her and Harry heard Tom's stomach rumble at the mention of food. Harry himself was hungry.

Despite this, Harry didn't want anything to do with the Malfoys, besides; the cafe was closed. She only smiled when he told her the last part and replied that her dear friend owned it and that she was inside right this moment.

"She's making pastry's and warm bread and pies...I love pies, don't you love pies, Tom?"

_Manipulative woman,_ Harry thought shaking his head somewhat amused.

Harry saw Tom blush and nod shyly, "I love pies, Lady, apple is my favourite," and Harry almost smiled despite himself when he realised that Tom was becoming enamoured with Lady Malfoy.

"There we have it then," she said clapping her hands soundlessly. "Let's dry you off and go have some breakfast."

Harry really was hungry but...he didn't want any trouble with the Malfoy's; they put him in several dire situations in the future. Wasn't this Lady Malfoy the same?

_She helped Tom find you._

He knew that he didn't have enough money for him to buy anything. How was he going to get their meals on the table every day? Especially now with Tom...He should be eagerly accepting any food given to them with thanks. But from a _Malfoy_? Good grief, _no_. Wracking his brain, Harry tried to find an excuse to decline the invitation.

Tom stirred in Harry's lap interrupting his thoughts. "Please, Sebastian?" he asked finally when Harry still hadn't replied.

With a weary sigh, now realising that for the life of him he couldn't think up another lie; Harry reluctantly nodded.


	5. Chapter 5 For the Family

**AN: **Hello, everyone. This next chapter explains a lot of things for the boys - it's double the length of my previous chapters :) It's mostly from Harr'y's POV so that you can see his side. Enjoy. Also thank you for your reviews, they make my day!

**A Chance in Time**

**Chapter Five – For the Family**

Lady Malfoy was holding his hand again, and Tom could've sworn he was floating with content, though of course he would deny it if he was ever asked. But, truly, she was so lovely to him, like how he imagined a real mum would be like. Were all mum's this pretty? Did they all smell so nice and run their fingers through their boy's hair? Tom imagined that having a mum would make any day more worthwhile. More _better_.

For years, living without his own parents meant Tom couldn't rely on anyone making him feel this way; like he was safe and secure. He knew that his mum and dad never loved him and it was the reason why he was dumped at the orphanage. Sebastian didn't have to tell him about their parents – why else would he be stuck at the orphanage? He knew he was a freak, just like everyone else told him he was. Even Ms Cole had once said that the orphanage was a place where unloved children were dumped.

But, _oh,_ it was so nice to pretend he had a mother.

He wasn't a child anymore, but he knew that he was nothing in the adult world. Tom was known for being independent, sure of himself, confident. But there were some things that a child could not do, even Tom, and for that he needed someone to guide him and protect him. And Sebastian, without a doubt, could do this for him, he was sure of it.

At the thought of family, Tom turned his heard around to look for his brother and found him trailing behind them with his hands in his pockets. His head was bowed and he was still obviously shaken up. Shivers shook his frame and heavy breathing could be heard. What had happened to him anyway?

Tom reached out a hand towards the green-eyed boy without even realising it and his brother grabbed onto his hand with no hesitation. From the corner of his eye, Tom saw Lady Malfoy smile beautifully.

o0o

Lady Malfoy led them to Baker's Bakery and Cafe, a place that produced an array of food both savoury and sweet that had both Harry and Tom drooling at the mere smells that it produced.

Two little bells placed at the top of the door, one with a low pitch and one with a high pitch, jingled above their heads as all three entered the large cafe. It was meant to be closed, as the sign clearly read, but Lady Malfoy ushered them through without any hesitation. She folded her umbrella and removed her red gloves, whilst calling for the owner.

"Marcus, dear," she called, not raising her voice, and not having to raise her voice. Harry imagined that she could grant a lot of attention and authority like that.

Harry and Tom traded looks at the sound of footsteps coming from up the stairs from underneath them. Harry wondered what was downstairs, a storeroom, perhaps? Or maybe the owner lived there. Nevertheless; Harry was feeling quickly out of place: the cafe and bakery was built so that a spiralling stairway led upstairs to more chairs and tables for customers. Downstairs held the cashier and counter as well as the majority of the tables and chairs. But most of wall, it was clean and brightly coloured with yellows and greens and blues and reds. There were interesting and twisting ornaments, flowers that looked fresh and invited you in, and the sunshine came through just fine despite the wet and rainy weather. Yes, Harry, with his dark clothes, sodden appearance and ill look, definitely felt out of place.

Counting that there were eleven tables just downstairs, Harry imagined that the cafe was very popular. _It must get very busy in here_, thought Harry impressed.

Just then, a short, plump, greying man reached the surface of the cafe, with a smile that actually reached his eyes. That smile made Harry hold Tom's hand tighter, suddenly overcome with sentimentality: when was the last time he'd ever seen someone smile that genuinely?

"Hello! Hello!" the man named Marcus cried out jovially. "My lovely lady, so kind of you to visit me this early morning," he said reaching for Lady Malfoy and taking both her hands in his large ones.

"So good to see you, Marcus," Lady Malfoy said serenely, bowing her head slightly. "It's always so wonderful to hear your voice."

Marcus chuckled happily and brought her hands to his lips. "Oh, Evangeline, you know just what to say!"

Lady Malfoy only smiled and shook her head, "you brighten any day, old friend." And Harry found himself agreeing; this Marcus fellow, with his genial disposition and friendly manner, will most definitely brighten anyone's day.

Finally, Lady Malfoy turned around and gestured behind her to where Harry and Tom were both standing and admiring everything and anything in their sight.

"Marcus, may I introduce to you my new friends?" she began. Pointing to Harry and then Tom, she gave their names and then explained to Marcus that all three of them had missed breakfast this morning and where actually hoping that they could enjoy their first meal of the day at 'her favourite place.'

Marcus looked from the pristine Lady Malfoy to the dirty orphans and finally smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, boys!" he said. He reached out to shake Sebastian's hand and patted Tom's shoulder at the same time. Harry smiled and pretended that he couldn't see the look that entered Marcus' eyes; a look that said that he suspected the boys were playing a trick on the poor, innocent Lady Malfoy, and that they were using her for her money. Harry couldn't blame him, really.

After the introductions, and without much hesitation, Marcus simply clapped his hands and smiled warmly. "Oh, my first customers of the day!" and with that he gestured to a nearby table and told them to order anything they liked.

Wanting to prove Marcus wrong – and mainly because of his pride – Harry told Marcus clearly that he would be happy to pay for their meal. "After all," Harry stated, "it's what a gentleman would do."

Harry kept eye contacted with the older man in hopes that he got his message across: that he wasn't using the Lady, that he never wanted this from her in the first place. Marcus didn't move for a few seconds, only holding Harry's gaze.

"Right you are, Sebastian," he said finally, nodding, his usual level of cheerfulness lessening somewhat. Hesitating slightly, and rubbing his hands on his apron while taking in the older boy's appearance, he said; "actually, Sebastian, gentleman or not; you are a guest and will be having breakfast on the house."

Harry frowned. He didn't need the man's pity, for Merlin's sake! "I must _insist_, Marcus –"

"Sebastian," Lady Malfoy said quietly.

Harry turned to look at her and found both the Lady and Tom sitting next to each other in a booth nearest to the counter. She had both her hands on her lap, one was holding Tom's hand again, and had her head cocked to one side.

"Don't be rude," she finally told him. "Marcus is a friend and he has offered us a nice meal."

"My Lady – " Harry began shaking his head, but again, he was cut off.

"Thank him, Sebastian," she ordered him.

Harry froze quite shocked; was she treating him like a child? At the sound of Tom's giggle, which he tried to muffle with his free hand, (and Harry noted that this smile had brightened his face a lot – despite him still being ill) Harry closed his hanging mouth shut with an audible and turned back to the man.

"I-Well, thank you...Marcus..."

Marcus smiled differently this time, more trustingly, so that wrinkles formed at the corners of his eyes. "You are most welcome, my boy."

o0o

"Now, who wants more tea?" asked Marcus again.

_He really knows how to look after his guests_, thought Harry, who declined his offer of tea. Regardless, Marcus poured more tea in his delicate white china cup. "Nonesense!" he cried, enthusiastic once again, "you need fattening up, boy!"

Taking the proffered cup in his grasp, Harry smiled and decided that he could tolerate one more cup before he might explode from all the food. The little moment filled with tension earlier had broken something that Marcus had against the two boys. Where he was distrusting at the beginning, Marcus seemed more amenable towards them, now – perhaps even liking them.

_Let's not go that far,_ thought Harry, though the evidence of Marcus' tolerance towards them was in the amount of food he kept providing. He seemed to disagree with the portions that Harry and Tom took and kept pushing more servings in their plates. _Clearly,_ Harry thought, _clearly he's feeling sorry for us._

It was a while since Harry had last had a meal so large, his stomach was finding it difficult to adjust and judging by Tom's facial expressions, Harry deduced that he was feeling the same way. Lady Malfoy's smile became bigger with every bite they took, and Harry thought it made her more ethereal that way. He shook his head, annoyed at himself. Seriously, ethereal? When had he ever described anyone, ever, that way? She was just a person, a person that essentially saved their lives today. Who knew what would've happened to Tom when he left the Inn. And what would Harry have done then? She had saved them.

Lady Malfoy wasn't being discrete about food portions either: she would try to persuade Tom to try another bite of a second serving of scrambled eggs, much to the dark-eyed boy's distress, and would comment on how "simply wonderful" the fresh apple juice tasted.

Harry wished he knew how Tom was feeling. He knew the boy never received much attention before. He knew the boy craved the attention that Lady Malfoy was giving to him. It was only a few days ago when Harry found Wool's Orphanage – when he had taken to spying on the children there in hopes of catching sight of his enemy. When he finally saw Tom for the first time, who rarely left the house except to only go to school or do chores outside the house, Harry finally made up his mind about going inside to finish the job. The only thing that stopped him, the only reason he couldn't kill a child, was because he wasn't _broken_ enough inside. Tom was just a child – and worse, Tom was too _similar_ to Harry that it scared him so much...Didn't Harry crave for his aunt and uncle's attention when he was a child, too?

It was twenty minutes after the two staff members arrived (a woman and a man that resembled Marcus too much to not be his children) that the cafe was finally open for the day at exactly 7:30 am. It was also the exact time that Harry finally pushed the empty plate forward. Similarly, Tom pushed his plate back too.

The amount of customers that had entered the cafe was simply astounding. How could the three staff members take care of this many customers? Shaking his head unbelievingly, Harry looked over at Tom sitting opposite him.

"How are you feeling, Tom?" Harry asked, taking in how his cold seemed to have improved now that he had food in his belly.

"I feel better now, Sebastian," Tom said smiling lightly.

"Once more shops have opened, we'll go find somewhere to get you some treatment, alright?" Tom nodded gratefully and Harry wondered if Tom was telling him the truth. Was he really feeling better or was he just saying it so that Harry didn't pester him about it again?

"Have some more juice, Tom," Harry suggested despite knowing that Tom would refuse. "Please?" he added just in case.

Mid-shake of his head, Tom sighed wearily and nodded affirmative, mumbling something akin to _"fine_." Lady Malfoy gave Tom a secret smile as she poured him some pumpkin juice, this time, and he smiled back warmly. Harry snorted into his tea and spluttered in an undignified manner at the sight of them. He didn't mind that the tea stung his nose, because Tom was laughing at him softly as he wiped his mouth and chin with a napkin. For some reason seeing Tom laugh, even at his expense, well, that was OK, too.

o0o

"Sebastian?" Lady Malfoy asked quietly, even she had given up on persuading Tom to eat more, by now. "If I may be so bold as to ask...?"

Harry nodded wearily; it was the fourth time that a customer smacked into his arm and shoulder as they ran past him. He was tired and cranky and really missed his bed. When was the last time he slept?

"How long have you been living on the streets?" Lady Malfoy asked.

Harry's head snapped up so quickly that his neck made a cracking sound. At the sound, both Lady Malfoy and Tom winced. "We have not been living on the streets, _my lady_, we _live_ in an _Inn_."

Lady Malfoy looked at him sceptically, from his messy hair and smudged spectacles to his old and frayed black shirt. Harry bristled at her critical eye and chastised himself mentally. She was a _pureblood_. What did he expect? Draco Malfoy's ancestor, no less.

Before she could say anything else, Harry asked a question of his own. "Why are doing this, my lady, if _I _may be so bold?"

Seconds ticked by, before she finally cocked her head to one side as if still assessing him; cool blue eyes gazed at him. "I-"

"What's the difference between being Lady Malfoy and Mrs. Malfoy, anyway?" Harry suddenly asked as one more customer banged against his shoulder trying to reach the counter. He remembered Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy and wondered why _she_ wasn't a Lady. She had once saved his life, too, didn't she?

Lady Malfoy sat up straighter in her seat – as if that was possible – and answered as well as she could. "A Lady becomes one when she holds a seat in the Wizengamot. When both her parents die before her marriage and there are no more heirs, she becomes a Lady and takes control of all assets and family responsibilities."

"Oh," Harry thought scratching his chin, coughing lightly. "Well, that explains _that_."

"What do you mean, Sebastian?" _Bless her,_ Harry thought amused looking up at her from behind his fringe, _she doesn't even sound annoyed or angry at me for being so rude._

"Well," he began, "it's obviously the reason why you saw two dirty, poor boys, guessed they where orphans and wanted to throw money at them so that they may eat and more importantly, so that you could feel good about yourself."

Tom gasped. Harry tried very hard not to roll his eyes at the dramatics.

The Lady smiled down at him, still calm, still sophisticated. _And still not angry,_ Harry thought idly. "Because we have similarities? Because all three of us are orphans?"

"And because you felt sorry for us," Harry added with a flip of his hand dismissively, as if trying to bat away a fly. "Don't sugar-coat it, my Lady, we look like crap."

Tom gasped again. "Sebastian!"

"Yes, Tom?"

"Don't-Don't be so _vulgar_," he whispered horror-struck.

"'Vulgar'?" Harry said raising his eyebrows so that they disappeared into his long fringe. "Wow, Tom, even I didn't know that word when I was your age. _Despite_ Vernon throwing all sorts of names at me..." _Clearly,_ Harry surmised, _normal words like 'crap' in the future were 'vulgar' in the past._

"Who's Vernon?" asked Tom, completely missing the point.

"What happened out there, Sebastian?" Lady Malfoy asked not two seconds after.

Harry titled his head sideways as if he were trying to tip the headache he was getting out of his left ear. "Out in the streets?" he guessed.

Lady Malfoy leaned forward in her seat. "Yes."

Deciding to be honest, so that the lies don't come back to bite him in the arse (and guessing by the number of lies he was telling, they would _definitely_ come back to bite him in the arse), Harry found himself glancing at Tom first, as if seeking approval, before turning to the Lady again. "I was having a panic attack...and don't worry your pretty little head; it's normal: I know how to take care of it. It was my fault really," Harry smiled a tired smile. _My fault for too being emotional,_ Harry added silently. Lady Malfoy, however, frowned deeply.

"And Vernon was my uncle, Tom." He added quickly.

Tom shook his head confused. "And my uncle, too?" For a second, he sounded almost hopeful.

Silly child.

"No. Lucky you."

"It's not your fault, Sebastian," Lady Malfoy continued, reaching out to take Harry's hand who quickly snatched it away to put it under the table. He wasn't going to be manipulated the same way Tom was. He was almost an adult, for Merlin's sake. "And regardless," she continued after a slight hesitation, and Harry guessed she had never been refused anything she wanted, "of whether you can take care of it or not, Sebastian, you should see a healer".

Harry saw Tom frown at the table at the word 'healer', but guessing from his nodding, Harry guessed he understood. _Tom really was quick at this,_ he thought admirably.

"I don't want to see a healer." He wanted his thought's to be private, thank you very much.

"Is it because of the money?"

"_No," _Harry said vehemently yet quietly, no longer playing and suddenly just very irritated with it all. "I don't need your money!" he finally choked out, his words coming out as harsh whispers. He stood up suddenly and looked down at the calm and serene pureblood witch in front him. "_Stop_ pitying me, _us_. Just _stop_." Why did everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn't it just go his way?

A hand in wrapped around his wrist and Harry's eyes flew open. He hadn't even realised he had closed them.

"Please," she asked quietly, as if approaching a frightened rabbit. "I will not mention money again."

Harry looked back down again to stare at the hand on his wrist pointedly and Lady Malfoy, seeming to understand, let go reluctantly. He chanced a glance at Tom and found him staring at this hands that were on his lap.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, mostly for the sake of Tom. He didn't want to give him the wrong first impression – that he was too emotional, too prideful and too weak. "I'm just..." He sat back down.

"I know, Sebastian, it was my fault."

_Yes, it was,_ Harry thought shaking his head. "I understand if you're curious about us, My Lady... But why are you so adamant in questioning me as much as possible?"

"Curiosity, I suppose, Sebastian, I want to see if you had the same childhood as my own."

Snorting derisively, Harry shook his head at the irony: here was a rich, pureblood, beautiful witch claiming that it was possible to have similarities with two dirty, poor half-bloods. "I seriously doubt that," he settled on saying.

"May I ask?" She began again slowly. "What happened to your parents?"

Tom quickly lifted his head up again to gaze at Harry pointedly – yes, he wanted to hear about this, too.

When Harry took a while to respond, Tom asked another question: "How comes Vernon is _your _uncle and not _mine_?"

Sighing, Harry tried – and hoped – to answer the questions together, because as of ten seconds ago, he wished to be anywhere but _here_ having _this_ conversation. He was still feeling strange after the panic attack.

So Harry explained – or lied and added a few truths and half-truths and soon he had created a new and more complicated character for Sebastian, Tom's older brother.

The story, for some reason, seemed to unsettle Tom somewhat though Harry supposed that the reason for that was because Harry hadn't told Tom about their relation to each other at the beginning. Lady Malfoy prompted Harry every time he lapsed into silence; not wanting to get ahead of himself in his fabrication of lies: he would only answer what they asked and that was all.

Soon the questions became harder, and Harry was tempted to start squirming and fidgeting under their stares. He even pretended to be thirsty and drank a whole cup of tea, despite the complaining of his full stomach. But he continued:

He explained that their mother Merope Gaunt was, to put it mildly, quite insane, she was out of control at the best of times. She had even gotten herself pregnant with a muggle that wanted nothing to do with her once he came out of his love-potion stupor. Tom paled with every word and Harry was tempted to stop entirely. But he persevered.

When Merope had her first child at the young age of sixteen, he, Sebastian, was taken to an orphanage as the mother was deemed unfit to care for her child. And the father? He was hopelessly in love with the woman and wanted only her attention. So Sebastian was taken to his nearest orphanage, only a baby, and was named right there and then by the staff. He was later taken in by the Dursley's who soon found out about his freakish abilities in magic. And when his Hogwart's letter came through, they moved from city to city, country to country just to get away from it, until Sebastian was living in the middle of nowhere with his new family. The Dursley's who at this point wanted nothing to do with him, had distanced themselves from adoptive mother and father to 'Aunt and Uncle'.

Harry stopped to catch his breath. By the looks on their faces, they had completely believed him. He was getting good at this lying crap.

"What about me?" Tom whispered quietly.

"I'm getting to that," Harry said smiling, but it wasn't an amused smile. "Merope fell pregnant again, naming her second borne Tom Riddle, after the father's name. Riddle Senior at that point, was free again, when Merope was stupid enough to lift the love potion off him, thinking that he actually loved her entirely, without the need for the love potion."

Harry waited for them to digest the added part and could see that Tom was mostly disgusted and embarrassed. Trying to picture it from his view was slightly difficult: he wasn't Sebastian, he was Harry Potter, the boy whose parents loved him so much that they sacrificed themselves for him. And despite that, his childhood was very similar to Tom's: they both wanted a family, they both wanted to be loved.

Tom hadn't said a word yet, his eyes were looking just above Harry's head as if afraid to make eye contact.

"Tom?" Harry pushed trying to get him to speak, but if anything, Tom merely look down at his lap again and hunched his figure over so that Harry could only see the top of his head.

Lady Malfoy shifted in her seat, but only enough to gain attention. She had her jaws set as if the story had affected her as much as it had affected Tom. Thankfully, she didn't say anything that showed that she pitied them. Instead she let out a breath and asked as politely as possible: "Gaunt, you say?" Clearly, she knew the name and Harry guessed that all sorts of thoughts were running through her head. It would probably only take her a few days with all her pureblood associates, but soon she'd be able to link the Gaunt family to Salazar Slytherin. And then things would get really interesting.

o0o

It wasn't long before Lady Malfoy had to finally excuse herself in order to carry out a few errands. She patted Tom on his head again, kissed Harry on the cheek when he wasn't looking, to his shock and Tom's amusement; and finally told them to meet them here every morning for breakfast again.

"It would be nice to make it regular, wouldn't it?" she said smiling. Harry only raised his eyebrow at her. No, it really, really wouldn't.

Tom beamed. Silly, silly child.

Harry found himself wondering if Tom would ever look him in the eye. He obviously felt uncomfortable with the story: who wouldn't be? He had just been told that they had two very strange, very insane parents. Finally, Harry asked him.

"How are you feeling, Tom?"

Dark eyes darted upwards to look at Harry again before looking back down.

"I already told you, Sebastian, I'm feeling better."

"I was asking about how you felt now that you know our history."

"Oh," Tom began, "Um..."

Harry shook his head and leaned forward in his seat, the red leather he was sitting in making a squeaky sound. So Tom _was_ feeling uncomfortable now that he knew. "Do you think perhaps they didn't love us enough? That that was the reason we ended up in an orphanage?"

Tom nodded.

"That perhaps, they never wanted us in the first place?"

Again Tom nodded.

"Why?" Harry asked and Tom frowned unsure. "Where we bad?"

Tom frowned harder and shook his head, his long fringe covering his eyes and he brushed it away hurriedly. "No, they didn't even get a chance to know us..."

Harry nodded. "Do they have any reason to hate us?"

"Um..."

"Well?"

"N-no, because..." Tom stopped and gazed at Harry squarely, "because we didn't do anything. It wasn't even our fault. It-It.."

"Yes?"

"It was _their_ fault!" Tom cried out finally understanding. "We were just _children_, we _are_ just children. We didn't even _do_ anything. They're the bad ones here!" Tom snarled and for a moment he resembled the angry Tom Riddle Harry at seen in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago.

Harry nodded. "Do you see, Tom? It's just you and me. And no one else." He added that last bit so that Tom could finally understand. Tom's eyes widened and he nodded his comprehension. _Don't be so trusting with Lady Malfoy._

The cafe was getting busy now, more than the three staff members can do on their own.

"How do you think the three of them manage to juggle all of this, do you think?"

Tom frowned. "Magic?" and Harry laughed.

"Do you think I should help? I don't like the idea of taking money from an old man. Do you?"

Tom shook his head amused. "No."

"In that case, you wait here and I'll go and see if I can help out, OK?" When Tom nodded his agreement, Harry stood up and approached the counter to where Marcus was standing. He was using his wand to make pancakes whilst simultaneously washing the dishing and taking Galleons from the customers. Harry felt a pang of nostalgia watching him. Hadn't Mrs Weasley been the same way?

"Marcus?" Harry began and bright eyes landed on him. Marcus never stopped his multi-tasking, and at the silence, Harry took that as a yes for him to continue.

"Can I help? I can cook...or clean or take the food to the customers at their tables..."

After a long look from Marcus, who realised that the determined youth in front him still wanted some way to pay for their meal; Marcus finally nodded and gestured with his chin to three trays laden with breakfast food.

"Tables two, thirteen – that's upstairs – and table four."

Harry nodded once and went to grab the trays. "And Sebastian," Marcus called out over the hubbub. "Thank you, that's very kind of you."

Harry only smiled. "It's no bother, Marcus, consider it payback." And with that, he turned around, juggling one tray at a time to the necessary tables.

o0o

Tom watched Sebastian move from table to table quicker than he thought someone new to this would be, and judging by the look on Marcus' face, he also thought the same. He even gave more work for Sebastian to do when he came back having finished the tasks.

Tom shook his unbelievably, already he was looking up at his older brother and already he admired everything about him. Tom frowned; this was all too new to him, too strange; he had accepted Sebastian into his life quicker than he had ever accepted anyone. It's why it was so difficult to ever get him adopted at the orphanage.

Why was Sebastian so different? He protected him, warned him at being so trusting, he watched over him even when he himself was still feeling the after-effects of his illness. Sebastian was just...

...Tom blushed embarrassed at his own fluff, _too perfect_. Too perfect to be _his_ brother. Tom didn't deserve anyone. It's like something he had always dreamed about: his family finally coming to rescue him. It was nice of Lady Malfoy to indulge in him: petting him, telling him lovely things, but the crux of the matter is that she wasn't his family. It was easy to be nice to strangers.

When Sebastian was telling him the story earlier about how their parents didn't deserve them and that they, as children, did nothing wrong, well, Tom almost couldn't believe it at first. But, why would Sebastian lie about it?

He wouldn't. He was too honest. And there was something about him, too, something that warned Lady Malfoy even, who was usually so blank-faced. He had first noticed it when he found Sebastian in the middle of a crowded street looking afraid to even breathe or move. Tom couldn't describe it, but he had felt..._something_, when he reached his brother. It was like a pulling sensation, a horrible sensation that crept up from his feet and went straight at his heart – as if something was pulling at that sole organ. He felt lightheaded and suffocated, but at the time Tom had dismissed it believing that he was simply afraid of losing his only chance of finding a family. But later on when Lady Malfoy had angered Sebastian, he felt it again. It was a power that reached out to him and ripped the breath out of his lungs angrily. It sent goose bumps up and down his arms and the back of his neck. And even more, Lady Malfoy had also felt it; Tom saw how she had gulped nervously and rubbed her arms, the same _he_ did. He heard her gasp when the _magic_ become harder to push down.

It had to be _magic_, right?

But didn't Sebastian say that magic was amazing? In that case, why did it make him feel insignificant? Why did it feel so...dark? And yet, despite all that, it was simply...tantalising. Powerful.

It was probably an hour after Tom's started thinking about his brother that the boy himself walked leisurely towards him.

Sebastian had a big smile on his face, wide enough to suggest good news. The smile changed his whole appearance, it made his green eyes look brighter, it made him look more trusting and more handsome. _You wouldn't have thought this boy was battling demons_, thought Tom. _He must have had a more horrid past than I did to have panic attacks regularly._

"Hey, Tom," Sebastian exclaimed, sitting next to him. _And here it was again,_ Tom thought bewildered, _that magic, except it's different._ Where the magic was suffocating the last two times, _this_ magic seemed warm and light and welcoming. It smelled like flowers – sweet like honeysuckle, and fresh like peaches. Tom found himself leaning towards him without realising it. He shook his head; why was his head so foggy?

"You'll never guess what, Tommy," he said excitedly. Tom tilted his head sideways. _Tommy?_ "Marcus just offered me a job; mornings only mind, when it gets very busy as you saw. It's not much, but it's better than nothing."

Sebastian's smile was infectious and Tom couldn't help but smile back. He also couldn't help but lean into the hand that patted his head.

Wow, but this magic was addictive.

Tom hoped that when he grew up he would have the same magic as his brother's.

o0o

At the advice of Marcus, Harry and Tom tried to find the local apothecaries nearby. Tom was very tired and the idea of going on an apothecary-hunt seemed to tire him more. So the boys set out to locate an apothecary as soon as possible in order to find some treatment for Tom. After that, Tom could have his nap.

_I want a nap, too,_ Harry thought, _I'm all knackered out._

"I wanted to apologise," Harry began slowly. He cleared his throat awkwardly and rearranged Tom again his arms. Tom had refused over and over when Harry reached out to pick him up, claiming he was a big boy. But when Harry reminded him that big boy or not, he was barefoot and wading through rain puddles (and who knows what else) would not make his cold better; Tom had reluctantly agreed and lifted his arms up like a mummy – much to Harry and Marcus' amusement.

Tom went stiff in his arms and tightened his hold on Harry, barely giving him enough space to move or breath. Harry only patted his back.

"Apologise for what?" Tom asked quietly, so quietly that Harry hardly heard him.

"For leaving you. Leaving you alone at the Inn by yourself..."

Tom sighed and loosened his hold on Harry, so that he longer resembled a limpet, and Harry could breathe again. Was Tom worried? Was he afraid that Harry wanted to apologise for something else? For possibly taking him in, in the first place? For regretting it all?

"Oh. It's not your fault, Sebastian," Tom said. "You can't control having panic attacks, just like Lady Malfoy said, remember"?"

Harry smiled, "you like Lady Malfoy, then?" he said because thinking about the real reason Harry had ran out from the Inn and away from Tom made Harry nauseous.

Tom mumbled a reply that no human being would have been able to decipher and Harry's smile widened.

"But I promise, Tom," Harry said, feeling lighter having made his decision to stay with Tom and to trust people more. To live his life more. "I promise I'll never leave you again."

Tom lifted his head off of Harry's shoulder and peered into brilliant green eyes. "I believe you," he whispered.

"Good," Harry said, speaking to himself more than he was to the boy in his arms, "because I really mean it. It's just you and me now, alright?"

A small smile crept up on Tom's face before he hid it by burying his head back in Harry's shoulder, clearly embarrassed by all the mushiness that seemed to radiate between them, if the blush on Tom's cheeks were anything to go by.

"Thank you, Sebastian."

It was Harry's turn to be confused. "For what?"

"For...for saving me."

Hugging Tom fiercely, Harry could only whisper the truth in Tom's ear.

"No, Tom, thank _you_ for saving _me_."


	6. Chapter 6 Rhythm

**A Chance in Time**

**Chapter 6 – Rhythm**

Harry stood over the prone figure of Tom, who had finally managed to admit that he was tired and succumbed to sleep. His fingers moved without realising it to brush away Tom's sweat-soaked hair from his forehead and he marvelled at how tiny and innocent he looked. Tom murmured in his sleep and he sighed softly as he relaxed into Harry's bed. Who would have thought that little Tom Riddle would ever become a mass murder?

Harry wasn't stupid: he knew that he still had to get to know Tom before he really understood him, and at the moment there wasn't enough evidence to suggest that Tom had any dark tendencies. No child was 'evil' – something had to pivot them in that direction and Harry wanted to find out what it was.

For now though, realising that taking a nap like he wanted to was only delaying the inevitable, Harry made his final decision and jotted down a quick note to Tom. Hopefully, this time Tom wouldn't have to run out the inn scared and alone. He placed the note next to the bed on the table top and put his hooded jumper back on. Finally locating 'his wand' – on the floor – Harry opened the door as quietly as possible and left the inn.

He had only three days before the room he was renting was no longer paid for so he had better get started on finding another job. He somehow doubted that a morning shift at a cafe and bakery was enough to support two people comfortably.

The beginning of a sunny day greeted Harry when he stepped out of the inn, it was almost nine o'clock now and more shops had opened up to begin their businesses for the day. Standing still, Harry enjoyed the wiring, whizzing and the banging of Zonko's Joke Shop setting up for the day, the lovely aromas of Honeydukes and – suppressing a shiver – the magic that came from Ollivander's Wand Shop. Memories raced through his mind of his first day at the busy streets of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade with Hagrid, the day he got his first Birthday present in the form of sweet Hedwig; of running into Honeydukes and Zonko's with Ron or the twins excitedly and bored out his mind when entering Scrivenshaft's for stationeries with Hermione...

Harry shook his head to clear the images out; there was no point in getting sentimental _now,_ he had to live a new life. He had to be Sebastian White.

Starting his hunt for work with a determined mind, Harry first began his journey in the businesses that looked wealthy and made a lot profit. At least that way there might be a chance of getting hired compared to the less profiting shops that could barely keep themselves open let alone have enough money to hire new staff.

Harry stuffed his hands into his pocket and jingled the remaining four Galleons and twelve sickles he still had when he first arrived in the new time plane, to remind of what was at stake: no home, no food, no clothes, no Tom.

December was coming and it was certainly showing: gone were the pretty coloured leaves; the chilling cold had barged its way through. Harry thought the weather matched the day perfectly: although the sun was out, it was heavy-coat season – and although Harry had Tom now, he had to work harder than ever to survive in this new world.

After the fourth shop had turned Harry down for a job because of his lack of experience and qualifications, Harry began searching in the shops that he loved to visit when he was a child. He was similarly also let down (though Harry wasn't so put down; there were too many memories made there for Harry to be comfortable). Shop after shop, Harry's spirits were getting lower and lower and soon he was far away from the inn and all the familiar shops. When he was just about to turn back, Harry stopped dead still in his tracks.

There before him were the Kestrels and carriages that pulled the Hogwart's students to and from Hogsmeade every weekend. Harry's heart skipped a beat.

Hands clammy with sudden perspiration, Harry looked around and for the first time noticed the children running around the Hogsmeade village. They seemed to be buying presents for Christmas or clothes for the holidays. Some were trying to enter Diagon Alley. Some of them were entering Madam Puddifoot's and others were causing a ruckus in the Three Broomsticks.

Without even thinking, Harry ran as fast as he could back to the inn. There was no way he was ready to look at the Hogwart's students and their traditions. There was no way he was ready to be reminded of his first real home again.

oOo

Harry buried his head into his jumper folded neatly on the floor, to replace the pillow he had given to Tom, and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on the hard floor. It seemed as though every time sleep pulled him in, the ruckus of downstairs at Doherty's Inn pushed him back out again.

Tilting his head up so that he was staring at Tom in his bed, Harry assessed Tom's condition now that he had some treatment and was sleeping off the food he had eaten with Harry and Lady Malfoy. He looked healthier now and he had more colour in his face. Tom had only been asleep for almost three hours now and it was definitely doing him some good...if only Harry could do the same.

Sighing wearily, Harry sat up and thought about the predicament he was in. Why did everything that reminded of back home cripple him like that? He shook his head, no, this was his home now.

Getting up from the floor and dusting himself off, Harry squared his shoulders and walked down the inn again. He _had_ to find a job. There was no time for him to be a coward about it – he was a Gryffindor for Merlin's sake...

And despite this, Harry shook as he walked out of the inn.

He lowered his head down so that he would miss the uniforms and the house badges of the Hogwarts students that ran by. He had a goal now. Get out, find a job, and get back in. _And take a damn nap,_ Harry added mentally. And with that, for the second time, Harry set out to peer into shops, guess who the owner is and give them the puppy-dog eyes. He remembered Ginny told him he was good at that.

It was the first shop that Harry encountered, this time around, that Harry found peculiar: it looked like it was falling apart. The roof was slanted almost dangerously and the shop seemed to tilt to one side. The shop was clearly closed but there were people inside – well, there was one person inside – who was stacking books into the shelves, counting money and packing boxes away.

_What a strange kind of business,_ thought Harry, _to not open during the weekend or so close to Christmas._

After a brief hesitation, Harry knocked on the glass door of the bookshop. From his vantage, Harry could see the sole staff inside freeze and squint her eyes at the door.

"We're closed!" she shouted.

"Actually," Harry began, "I wanted to speak with you if I may?"

"I said we're closed!"

Harry shook his head. "It's about the advertisement at the door. I don't want to purchase anything, Madam, I just wanted to-"

Suddenly, the door of the bookstore was wrenched open.

"Are you deaf, boy?" the old woman asked annoyed. A foul smell had followed her when she had opened the door and unfortunately Harry got a nice blast of it.

Wrinkling his nose as discreetly as possible – as if that would mask the smell of a dry, old, decaying place – and trying to breathe through his mouth, Harry smiled warmly at the old woman.

"Please, Madam, I only want to speak with you."

An old and wrinkly hand reached up to put a yellow cigarette stick, that smelled oddly like coffee and not tobacco, into her mouth. She inhaled deeply and coughed once, twice before she settled her watery blue eyes on Harry again.

"Well, what do want to do that for?"

Harry quelled the urge to take a step back from her strong coffee breath, "I don't want to purchase anything, I just wanted to ask about the vacancy at the door," Harry repeated again. As if to illustrate, Harry pointed at the paper stuck to the door with a _Spellotape_. Written on it was simply: "Books End Bookshop, vacancy open. Speak to owner."

"Well, why didn't you say so? Stupid boy, mumbling instead of talking like normal people should..." the old woman trailed off and turned around to enter the shop again gesturing for Harry to follow her in. At the prospect of a job offer, Harry smiled wonderfully.

"Here!" she suddenly called out and Harry almost jumped. "Take these boxes of books and stack them in. Alphabetically!"

Dumbfounded Harry could only stare at the old, hunched woman.

"Well, then!" she croaked again, voice crackly from old age. "Get to work, then!"

Harry shook his head amazed. "Um, I'm Sebastian by the way."

The woman had already left the room.

oOo

Two hours had passed and Harry was still working in stocking the books into the designated bookshelves. The place was old and dark and was clearly one of the shops that Harry had tried to avoid in the first place: the shops that looked like they made little to no profit.

The woman only came downstairs once and that was to pick up more coffee-smelling tobacco sticks from her desks. Harry could hear her mumbling "the winter is coming so _it_ is coming..." and tried very hard to block out the rest. _Clearly,_ Harry thought, _she's a bit senile._ Another two hours more and Harry was wondering if Tom had woken up yet when the woman (alerting him by the coughing) came down the stairs again. This time, she was carrying a pouch in her hands.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and gazed around her – Harry had only managed to fill two whole cabinets labelled 'New Books' and another two cabinets on 'Pureblood Etiquette' – she nodded her head twice and handed the pouch over without another word.

Just as she was going up the stairs again, Harry called out to her. "Wait! What is your name?"

Slowly as if reluctantly, the old woman turned around to face him, her curly and frizzy white hair sticking up at odd directions.

"You will come back here at eight o'clock _sharp _every Saturday and Sunday and you will work until midday." And without answering Harry's question, the old woman turned around again and walked upstairs.

What was he going to do now?

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. So now he only had a morning job in the Cafe and Bakery and a weekend job at Book Ends – sighing again and sneezing when a whole collection of dust settled up his noise, Harry realised that it still wasn't enough to look after both himself and an eight-year old boy.

oOo

It was nearing lunch time now and Harry had no desire to use the change in his pocket plus the twenty-seven Galleons that the Old Woman had paid him: he needed that money for rent at the inn. Speaking of the inn...

Harry inhaled deeply at the smell of meat pies being made. It was Saturday so it was beef pie and mead and Buffalo stew today. He could eat a horse, hooves and all.

He knew that he couldn't afford the meal, so Harry just stood there for a few minutes at the entrance of the inn and smelled those beautiful smells.

The busty woman - Gladys? – walked past him balancing a tray of several glasses of ale. After placing the beverages on the customers' table, she turned around to pick up the meat pies to also place on the table. At the same time, an obviously drunk man (_this early in the morning?) _smacked her across her bottom_._ She turned quickly quite surprised and batted the hand away as if used to it...

...and without hesitation, Harry swept passed her as discreetly as possible and picked up a pie.

oOo

When Tom woke up this time round it was to the sound of his older brother entering the room. He had his hood covering his head – though that still didn't prevent a tuft of messy hair from peaking at the front and at the sides of his face – and what seemed to be a pie in his hands.

Tom was very glad that his brother had come back at the same time as when Tom woke up – he would have hated to be alone in the room again like the last time. He would have begun to think all kinds of thoughts about Sebastian leaving him again. Tom still wasn't sure if Sebastian would ever change his mind again and return him to the orphanage, but...Sebastian promised, hadn't he? He promised that he wouldn't, right?

Tom brushed his hair from his eyes and sat up on the uncomfortable bed. And it really was an uncomfortable bed, more so than the one at the orphanage and that was saying something, but Tom didn't complain to Sebastian about it. Sebastian wouldn't be here unless he absolutely had to. Besides, why give Sebastian reasons to return Tom to the orphanage? He had to be the best he could, and that meant no complaining, no being needy and pathetic and most of all not being a freak.

Something caught Tom's eye towards his left on the table top and he noticed, for the first time, that a note was propped up against a moving picture frame.

Was that meant for him? Or was it Sebastian's?

Sebastian smiled at the sight of Tom sitting on the bed with the blanket pooled around him; Tom's own hair in messy waves across his forehead. Tom noticed that the smile looked stretched and fake, like the kind that potential parents who came to visit the orphanage used when sizing up each child and wasn't pleased...

Was Sebastian not pleased about something?

"You're looking much better now, Tommy," his brother said, and Tom smiled warmly at the sound of his name being said like that, he'd never had a nickname before and Tom cherished the sentiment.

Tom shrugged narrow little shoulders, feeling the aches in his bones seeming to have disappeared. Whatever Sebastian had gotten for him at the apothecary was definitely doing the trick. Was that magic, too?

"I _feel_ better, Sebastian."

"Good," he said and he looked like he meant it, too. "Did you get my note?" Walking up to the bed, Sebastian placed the most wonderful smelling meat pie in front of him on the table. Tom couldn't believe how hungry he was, he had eaten so much this very morning!

"Um," Tom said distractedly, still gazing at the pie. He realised now that Sebastian was referring to the note on the table top. "I just woke up, actually, so I didn't get to read it."

Sebastian smiled warmly. "That's alright, but I _am_ glad you're sleeping well. The note was just explaining that I was stepping outside for a while."

"To find something to eat?" asked Tom as Sebastian broke the thick pie in half and then into little slices.

"Something like that, Tom," Sebastian told him but Tom had his eyes trained on the pie.

While Tom tucked in ravenously, he watched Sebastian walk around the room looking for certain things and making little gestures with his hand (a flick of his wrist or a whispered word) at some of them – mostly these were things that obviously belonged to Sebastian: a sock, some gloves, a pack of matches, a note book...A few times, Sebastian shook his head and sighed as if annoyed, but sometimes Sebastian was able to turn some of them into what looked like real clothes. Clothes that he presented in front of Tom to substitute for his pyjamas.

Tom's slice of pie was suddenly forgotten; Tom wanted to learn about magic.

oOo

Despite Harry feeling terrible about stealing the pie, he knew he had no other choice. What else was he supposed to do? Starve? He hoped and hoped that he didn't have to do it again; the heavy feeling that settled in his gut made the pie, which he knew smelled amazing, taste like cardboard.

He regretted not finding any work as soon as he arrived in the 1930's. He hadn't even considered what he would have done with his life after he killed Tom. Had he assumed that the Galleons from the Potter and Black vaults still belonged to him?

Regardless of the ill-feeling he got from being a thief, Harry bit into his first slice of pie and forced himself to swallow. It wouldn't make him happy but it would definitely settle the feeling of hunger in his stomach and give him plenty of energy to go out and find another job.

Harry watched as Tom picked up his slice and licked his lips. The boy was obviously hungry. When Harry finally finished his own slice, leaving a still eating Tom, Harry got up from the floor and tried to find some clothes for Tom. Harry didn't have many clothes with him so he decided not to shrink too many of his own clothes to fit Tom. Instead, he looked about the room until he found items that he remembered Professor McGonnegal taught his class at Hogwarts to transfigure into other objects.

For some reason though, ever since the Final Battle – when Hermione had finally concluded that Harry had absorbed _something _from Voldermort when he died – Harry was getting unusual reactions from his wand. Ultimately, he found himself quite capable at using wandless or wordless magic. At the moment, the accidental magic that he always had when he was a child was getting worse every time he used the borrowed wand for more complicated spellwork, so using a wand no longer had its benefits. Sometimes that panicked Harry: that he wasn't normal anymore (_was he ever normal?_)_,_ that whatever happened at the battle had done something to his magical core, but most of the time it made Harry more aware of the magic flowing out his body through his fingers and into the target. He no longer needed a wand to act as a mediator, a conduit. Harry felt more aware of magic now, he felt more _alive_.

_You were always different_, Snape's voice told Harry, though it didn't sound angry or cynical like it usually did.

Not bothering with the wand tucked into his jumper, Harry searched the room for some items to transfigure. He couldn't remember the incantations for some of them; such as transfiguring one natural substance into another, so converting a wooden frame into cotton was impossible for him. Finally he settled into converting small cloths into bigger ones to fit Tom. He concentrated in changing the shape and the size and was overall happy with what he had done with them. He made sure to transfigure them into Muggle clothes; Harry remembered how difficult it was getting used to robes when he first began his new life in the Wizarding world. And, judging by the way Tom looked apprehensively at the wizard and witch's attire as he passed them, he seemed to still favour Muggle clothes, too, though he never mentioned it. He couldn't do anything about the colours, unfortunately, so Tom had to walk around in a bright green shirt from one pair of gloves, a navy jumper with a white boat in the middle made from one sock, and black trousers from Harry's sleeping shirt from Dudley's old cast-offs..

He didn't need any of those things, Tom on the other hand, did.

oOo

Harry had begun to notice that Tom was getting more engrossed with the idea of using magic. He had started to ask more complicated questions: some questions that were simple enough to answer, some questions that Harry couldn't explain (because how could one express to an individual who has never used magic what it _feels_ like?) and questions that sometimes worried Harry ("Have you ever hurt anyone with magic? Have you ever killed anyone with it? What was it like?"). Harry tried to answer the questions as best as possible – though Tom was still in the dark about most of Harry's past, including his involvement in fighting to the death with his enemies. He didn't know if Tom was brave enough to approach strangers with questions, mostly the two of them kept to themselves, but Tom appeared to be getting braver every day. _Soon, he won't need me to introduce him into the Wizarding world anymore,_ thought Harry; _soon he'll be smart enough to look after himself and find his own answers._

And Tom _was_ smart enough to look after himself and Harry had noted that fact early on. Tom didn't need Harry to help him dress or tie his shoelaces. He never asked for help for combing his hair, blowing his nose or using the toilet. He seemed content in feeding himself and making his bed. Overall, Harry found Tom to be a most capable child...

...a capable child that suddenly turned into mush at the sight of Lady Malfoy and her generosity.

Harry and Tom had taken to eating with Lady Malfoy every morning at Baker's Bakery and Cafe for the next few days. And though he could never admit it, Harry had to agree with Lady Malfoy: making every morning with the woman regular _was_ quite nice.

But it was mainly nice for Tom.

Each morning after they had finished their breakfast, Lady Malfoy would kiss them atop their heads and bid them a good day, and then Tom would blush furiously whilst Harry would glare at her retreating back. After that, Harry would begin his morning shift with Marcus and his children; Rosa and Christopher, while Tom would sit at the booth and drink a strawberry milkshake and read the novels that Christopher would bring him every morning.

It seemed that integrating himself back into the world again was working. Harry was finding his rhythm, again.

One morning however, Lady Malfoy brought someone with her, much to boys' distress: her son, Abraxas. Abraxas, unlike his mother had white-blond hair tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon, compared to her very yellow-blonde loose hair. While Lady Malfoy's eyes were a clear blue, Abraxas' were grey like overcast clouds. It made him look more cold. _His son and grandson would inherit those eyes,_ Harry thought thinking of Lucius and Draco Malfoy, _and they too will be cold._

Harry's first impression of Abraxas was that he was a demanding little horror who clicked his fingers to gain the staff's attention and demand, with his pointy little nose up in the air, that he wanted a kiwi and lime juice. And then he would insult and rave pompously and demand why they didn't have any kiwi.

Lady Malfoy indulged him in smiles at the beginning, but she later grew very silent at the end of his tirade. Silent enough to scare the little monster into behaving himself. It seemed that Lady Malfoy had to employ this trick regularly for Abraxas to have recognised it so well. Harry wondered what the consequences of her wrath was and if could please, _please_ watch.

Judging from Tom's expression, Harry guessed that there was nothing in Abraxas Malfoy that appealed to him either.

oOo

Tom felt jealousy coil sluggishly around the pit of his stomach as he forced another smile at the antics of Lady Malfoy's son.

_What an absolute...dumbhead,_ thought Tom annoyed. How could the lovely Lady Malfoy have such an annoying brat for a son? _My God,_ Tom shook his head amazed, _is he still nagging about his tutor?_

Wait – tutor?

"You have a tutor?" Tom asked before he could stop himself. He didn't want Abraxas to know he was interested even though learning was something that Tom had always appreciated. He had spent his whole childhood alone, but as soon as he learnt how to read he finally found solace in books. Every day he would read and every day he became more and more addicted.

Abraxas smiled. No, he _smirked_ at Tom (_obviously not as good as _my_ smirks_, Tom thought icily) and said: "Of course I have a tutor, his name is Alcott Aylwim," – and he said his name as if Tom should have recognised who _Alcott Aylwin_ was – "all high class families hire tutors for their children. It's common knowledge. Why?" he asked leaning forward, he didn't wait for Tom's reply, "do you not have a tutor, Tim?"

"It's Tom, actually," Sebastian's voice cut in and Tom glanced at him gratefully.

Abraxas' grey eyes flickered briefly towards Sebastian before resuming their gaze at Tom. "Are you poor or something?" he asked accusatively, squinting his eyes at them. He seemed to have quickly judged them based on what they had on, "Mother, are they poor or something?"

Tom felt angry almost instantly, that little –

Lady Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her petulant son. "Abraxas, you will apologise immediately and you will desist with your whining."

Abraxas opened his mouth to object but Lady Malfoy beat him to it with a calm yet chilling voice – to an eight year-old. "That's enough, Abraxas, or I will tell our friends how you reacted when we first presented to you your tutor."

By the look on Abraxas' bright red face and wide eyes, it must have been something humiliating.

Tom showed him what a true smirk looked like.

"My apologies," he mumbled finally.

Ignoring her scowling son, Lady Malfoy declared that it was time for them to leave again, much to Tom's distress (though of course he never showed it) and Sebastian's...relief? Was he perhaps relieved at the prospect of being liberated of Abraxas' presence? Did he also hate the little snot? Tom felt warmth in his chest for his brother; he seemed to always react the same way as Tom did. It was like they shared the same soul.

"So soon?" Tom asked.

"Unfortunately, yes, my Tom," she said tilting her head to the side. Tom pretended that he didn't just melt in his seat when she called him 'my, Tom' and nodded seriously. She leaned forward to kiss Tom and Harry on their foreheads.

"Somewhere urgent to go to?" asked his brother who was wiping his forehead and frowning at the women. Lady Malfoy nodded, her blonde curls bouncing around her face and shoulders.

She stood up and tugged Abraxas to also stand up with her, "We are trying to find a new gardener; our gardens had been utterly butchered by the last of the autumn weather. It's such a shame that Mr. Tulip had to retire."

Tom watched as something passed over Sebastian's face and he soon found out why. He didn't say anything to Lady Malfoy until she reached the door to exit the cafe and bakery. Sebastian seemed to be having an internal struggle with himself and Tom guessed that he was thinking of asking her for something but didn't trust her as much as Tom did (even though Tom tried _not_ to).

"Lady Malfoy, wait, please," Sebastian stood up and walked towards her when she turned around to look at him.

"Yes?" Beside the Lady, her little snot-nosed son sighed impatiently. He tapped his foot and crossed his arms across his chest as if to look grown up. _He doesn't look grown up,_ Tom thought; _he looks like a little girl. A little girl trying very hard to be a boy._

Tom focused on his brother and Lady Malfoy again who had come closer so that a customer could walk past her.

"I have done some gardening for my relatives ever since I was a young child, my Lady," Sebastian began and Tom saw how apprehensive he was about this.

"And you wanted to offer your services, I presume, Sebastian?" she asked smiling lightly finishing his thoughts for him.

Sebastian suddenly looked quite shy and he shrugged one shoulder sheepishly. "Y-yes, I know I can do a good job, my aunt Petunia even said so and she and I, well, we just never got along...it's an effort for her to say something like that," he shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, "you could always tell me to get lost if you think I'm not doing a good job..."

Lady Malfoy's smile grew and she reached out one hand to pat Sebastian on his shoulder, "You have just made a long and arduous task much shorter, my sweet."

"Er..."

"Of course, I would love for you to work in the gardens. I trust you completely, Sebastian. Are you amenable to start to as soon as possible? Say, this afternoon?"

Sebastian, noticeably speechless, nodded his acquiescence. "Yes, of course, thank you, my Lady. I won't let you down, I _promise_."

"I know, my dear, I trust you. I will come back here later to Portkey us to the Manor."

"_Mother_. May be _go_ now? Father wanted to meet us at the Museum _eons_ ago!"

Tom smiled as Sebastian walked over to the table again with a silly grin on his face, even Abraxas' little outburst didn't ruin his brother's happiness.

"Don't exaggerate, dear, it's unbecoming."

Tom wasn't so happy though, but he still didn't mention it to Sebastian; it didn't feel right. Sebastian was clearly happy about finding another job...but gardening? Wasn't that a lowly job? He would be working on his hands and knees, getting dirty and smelly to make some garden look...pretty? How positively..._low._

He couldn't mention it now, not when Sebastian was just about to start working and more customers were going to enter. No one needed to see their business aired out in front of them, so Tom waited. He accepted the strawberry milkshake from Rosa with a smile and another short novel from Christopher, who sat down with him to discuss why he thought the main character was an utter twit, with appreciation. Tom settled in for the next three hours.

He would tell Sebastian later, now though; he wanted to find out what had gotten Christopher so fired up.

oOo

Harry stared at Tom utterly shocked and finally blinked.

"Low?" he croaked unbelievingly.

Tom stared at Harry through big, dark eyes. "Yes, Sebastian. I just feel that you have accepted two very low jobs: working in the cafe and a gardener – you could do _better_ than this. What will people think?"

"What will people think?" Harry parroted. "_What?_ Have you gone _insane_?_"_

Tom frowned looking slightly peeved, "No, I-"

"We are _poor_, Tom, _poor_. So poor, actually, that I have three jobs. Not _two_!"

He opened his mouth to speak again but Harry beat him to it. "Yes, _that _job is also _low_. We can't afford to be picky, Tom!"

"Why can't you get a better job?" Tom cried angrily back.

Harry took a step forward in exasperation. "Because I have no education, no experience and I know nothing about wizarding businesses."

oOo

Tom couldn't believe this, why was Sebastian so shocked at his hearing this?

"What will people think?" Sebastian exclaimed angrily at him and Tom had never seen him so angry before. "_What?_ Have you gone _insane_?_"_

Tom took a step back but there wasn't much space to back up against; the room at the inn was just too small. Tom had waited until he and Sebastian went back to the inn, like he had planned so that he could voice his concerns, he couldn't hold it in anymore.

Why couldn't Sebastian see that he only cared for him? Was _he_ insane?

"No, I-"

"We are _poor_, Tom, _poor_. So poor, actually, that I have three jobs. Not _two_!" He wouldn't even let him finish! "Yes, _that_ job is also _low_. We can't afford to be picky, Tom!"

Tom shook his head angrily; he didn't want to them to be stuck in a poor environment forever: Tom can't forever live in clothes made from socks!

"Why can't you get a better job?" Tom cried and he wished he didn't, because for the first time since he met him, Tom begun to be afraid of his brother. Tom gulped when Sebastian began to loom over him, his frame shaking with vexation. Sebastian was an imposing figure when he was angry. Sebastian's whole body seemed to tense up and that feeling of suffocation surged through Tom again. Tom gulped again when Sebastian was close enough for him to see little red freckles in his irises. His eyes weren't that bright shade of green that Tom loved anymore, they were dark and muddy and had red-blood specks in them. Was that even normal?

"Because I have no education, no experience and I know nothing about wizarding businesses," Sebastian finally explained through gritted teeth. Suddenly at the sight of Tom – and whatever he saw it was _something_ – Sebastian sighed and reached out a hand towards Tom's face. Tom couldn't help but duck that hand and he cursed himself mentally. He acted as though Sebastian had struck him! He watched as Sebastian snatch his hand back the same way he had at the orphanage when he had gripped Tom too hard...

There was a long pause where neither of them seemed to move. Eventually, Sebastian slowly got down on his knees and lifted both hands towards Tom, palm up. "I won't hurt you, Tom, I promise."

Tom kept quiet; his head low, not wanting to make eye contact. Sebastian could hurt him without a wand, couldn't he?

"Tommy? Please?"

At the sound of that nickname, slowly, Tom lifted his head up. Why was Sebastian angry at him? He was only telling the truth. Finally Tom met those eyes and he winced when he could still see the red spots in them.

"I won't hurt you," he repeated and Tom took one step towards him, then another, until he was touching Sebastian's hands and then he was being pulled into a hug.

"I'm sorry, I won't yell at you again."

Tom only nodded.

oOo

Lady Malfoy had sent an owl addressed to both 'Sebastian' and Tom. She said that the letter was a Portkey and that she and Mr. Malfoy were pleased to hire him. Unfortunately, she couldn't come in person to pick him up but the letter would take him straight to the Manor grounds when he was ready. He was welcome to bring Tom along.

Harry focused on the tasks that he would be doing at the Manor to stop himself from thinking about how afraid Tom had looked. He still felt strange around the boy, like he couldn't trust him with his thoughts and the majority of the time he was too engrossed in being Sebastian to care about was happening to Harry. But regardless, he shouldn't have snapped like that, Tom just didn't understand yet and it would probably take a while and a few tries before Tom finally did. Sometimes though...sometimes Harry found himself unable to hold back his anger. It was like something else inside his mind pushing at his thoughts, making him believe that he had every right to be angry. That he had every right to release that anger.

Harry blinked hard to dispel those thoughts and tried to think of a way of explaining the situation to Tom more clearly: he didn't want Tom to be afraid of him or distrust him; he wanted him to believe in Harry completely. How else was he going to mould him? "I never had a proper wizarding education," Harry said, and that much was true, he lost his NEWTS to the war and his OWLS were messed up upon Voldermort's return _(not to mention Umbridge, that toad)._

Tom stopped petting the eagle owl that had flown from Malfoy Manor and turned to look at him. He didn't say anything and Harry continued.

"I had to learn the hard way: through experience."

Tom stood still and finally said: "Was it because of the family that adopted you? Because they hated magic?"

Harry thought about the question, although the Dursley's hated the idea of Harry going to Hogwarts, they never truly stopped him.

"It was their fault wasn't it?" Tom continued. "They were afraid of you." Tom looked angry now and Harry remembered that short period at the orphanage when Harry observed Tom: he was shunned, hated, everyone was afraid of him. For what? For his magic? Was it their fear that finally invited Tom Riddle to turn to the dark?

"No, Tom," he said, "it was because of wizards actually...bad wizards." He left it at that even though it was plain to see that Tom wanted to know more. Instead, Harry got up and explained what the letter from Lady Malfoy stated. He couldn't leave Tom on his own at the inn, of course, so he told him that he too was going to attend the manor with him.

Later, after having explained how the Portkey worked and when both of them were holding onto the letter, Harry remembered that the rent was due today.

Tom gasped and almost buckled when they finally landed at the Manor grounds. He didn't slip onto the ground like Harry used to – and did – but he was somewhat shaken by the experience.

Harry stood up and dusted himself off. He really, really hated Portkeys. Harry watched Tom's face to try to gauge his reaction at seeing the Malfoy Manor: shock, awe and above all, appreciation. Harry felt his heart sink; now that Tom had seen what he could have possibly have had had Harry gotten a better job, would their arguments become more frequent?

_What did you expect? He's eight years-old, he's allowed to be demanding,_ said Snape's voice in his head.

_I know,_ Harry thought, _that's the hard part, I don't think I can handle being talked down to again._

From where they landed, Harry and Tom could see the front of the wrought-iron gates of the Malfoy Manor and the large hedges curving on either side, and although Harry had seen if before he still found himself incredibly impressed. He could only imagine what was going through Tom's head; was he dazzled at the sight of the large pureblood house, the elegant white peacocks and the long and elegant driveway ahead? Or like Harry, did he think it was a waste, too frivolous, too extravagant for one little family?

He quickly grabbed Tom before they reached the gates and paused; he remembered that the letter said they should wait at the gate for Lady Malfoy to permit them through. It was only seconds after that that the woman herself was sighted walking up along the driveway towards them. This time around, she wore a long velvet dress that teased the ground as she walked; it was greener than the grass and the texture richer than anything the boys had ever seen before. Her hair was pulled back in an elaborate twist at the nape of her neck while modest earrings peaked behind blonde ringlets.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, boys," Lady Malfoy said lightly, she gestured to the doors and muttered something under her breath, "Walk through, my darlings," she said finally before she reached towards their hands and literally pulled them through the solid gates. Just like smoke, they passed through the gates to meet Lady Malfoy on the other side. She didn't let them dwell on the magic that allowed them access to the manor and instead she entwined her fingers through theirs and walked them up the driveway.

From the look on Tom's face, Harry knew that he had several questions he wanted to ask, instead he settled on a polite: "Thank you for inviting me along as well, Lady Malfoy."

"Think nothing of it, my dear, how could I separate you boys for too long?" she said just before they entered the Manor. "Come inside, boys, step out of the cold."

Warmth greeted them as they entered and the boys shivered in delight. From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Tom jump at the sudden _pop!_ of the Malfoy's house elf.

Without a word the young elf came forward and extended his – her? – hands so that the boys could relinquish their coats, which they quickly did. The house elf, who Lady Malfoy introduced as Milly, had long white hair protruding out of _her_ ears that made her look older than the rest of her features made her look. Big, bulbous, brown eyes avoided as much eye contact as possible and fixated on the muddy tracks that the three had brought in with them into the house. A large, white tunic covered the house elf from her neck up to just below the knees; a large 'M' decorated the centre in navy blue.

Lady Malfoy began to walk ahead of them. "Come with me, boys," she called and they followed her. They took in the four white pillars, each of them with twirling designs engraved in them. Pictures of buildings and landscapes that Harry knew the Malfoy's owned decorated the walls. As they walked further through the entryway and down the first set of corridors, these pictures were replaced with portraits of the Malfoy ancestors.

At the sound of a gasp, Harry turned to look at a gapping Tom, who had his eyes fixated on the Malfoy family on the walls. Some began conversation with neighbouring portraits, some gazed unabashed at the two scruffy boys and other mumbled ridicules under their breath. All in all, it was everything that Harry thought it would be.

_The last time I was here, Ron, Hermione and I were going to die,_ thought Harry with dread as he felt his breathing become quicker. He hoped to death he wasn't going to have a panic attack. He was fine earlier, but now he was inside the Manor, Harry couldn't stop thinking and thinking...

His thoughts were cut short at the sound of laughter, but Lady Malfoy didn't take them towards the noise, instead she carried on walking until she reached one of the most spectacular rooms that Harry had ever had the privilege of seeing:

The doors to the room were large and oak and reminded Harry a lot of the doors of the Great Hall at Hogwarts' and the room was just as big. Five seats circled a fat table with a circular top; the table was a light brown – so light it almost looked cream. At the sides, the room was decorated with long vases of flowers that Harry was sure never existed in the Muggle world: purple hyacinth-looking flowers with yellow smears on the petals, yellow buttercups the size of an adult's fist, heavily potted plants sitting on high shelves that had vines extending towards the ceiling and the walls of the room to intertwine with other vines of various colours – yellow, moss-green, orange, pink...And opposite the oak doors, where the fourth white-painted wall should have been, was a floor-to-ceiling glass wall. And past the glass wall were the gardens.

Acres and acres of land spread in front of the room (which Harry assumed was _supposed_ to be a conservatory) to show clearly how much each millimetre of the land was appreciated. Harry gulped nervously, was he supposed to take care of _this_?

"The tools are at the end of the gardens," Lady Malfoy said and Harry jumped slightly when he realised just how close she was to him. "I don't expect you to work any longer than a few hours a day – especially in this ghastly weather. Nevertheless; it really is up to you to decide how long and how many changes you wish to add, Sebastian."

Harry turned to look at the woman who had really saved him a second time now by giving him a job. How could she trust him so easily to make a good job of it?

"You'll do just fine, Sebastian," she told him as if reading his mind and then she leaned in and brushed one hand across his hair, as if to flatten the mess that lay there. "We will discuss money matters later, I think, yes?"

Harry couldn't help but smile. He had changed his mind: the Lady was simply amazing. "Thank you for believing in me, My Lady."

Lady Malfoy only smiled. "I will leave you to get better acquainted with the gardens." Turning around, skirts swishing as she moved, she extended her hand to Tom this time.

"Come, Tom, I will take you on a tour of the Manor. Would you like that?"

Tom nodded dumbly at her and took her hand. "Y-yes, ma'am."

Harry smiled encouragingly. "I'll see you later, Tommy."

"See you..."

And with that, Harry turned around to look the mess he got himself into.

oOo

Lady Malfoy squeezed Tom's hand again when he began lagging behind on their tour, but he really couldn't help it. He had never seen a place so magnificent...

All his years, Tom had accepted the fact that he would never grace the halls of anywhere so spectacular. Did people actually live here? Or did they just stare in wonder and amazement like Tom was doing? Did any of the other guests inside feel cold with longing and jealousy? Did they all think they were not even good enough to even be here, too?

Lady Malfoy tugged his hand and tilted her head to the side to take in Tom's expression and Tom hoped reading one's mind wasn't possible in the magical world. "Come, we haven't even seen the library, yet," she said quietly.

Library?

"_Library?_ Please lead the way, ma'am!_"_

Lady Malfoy laughed a laugh that sounded as light as bells. As they were walking, Tom could hear talking from the room that they had passed earlier with Sebastian – the room where they heard the laughter come from. This time though, they could hear a man shouting, no he was berating...

Tom heard Lady Malfoy sigh before she smiled wearily and gestured to the room with her chin. "The boys are in that room."

The boys? Did Lady Malfoy have more than one son?

"And it appears that they are causing more trouble for dear Alcott."

_Alcott. That sounded familiar,_ Tom thought frowning slightly, _and didn't Abraxas say his tutor was called Alcott?_

"The tutor?" asked Tom and Lady Malfoy nodded.

"Let's see what they're learning today, hmm?" she said and even Tom knew that she was more interested in catching them in the act of making mischief, and without waiting for this acquiescence, the blonde woman walked towards the door and pushed it gently open.

The door pushed open to reveal a tall, almost skeletal-thin, balding man with an incredibly bad comb-over standing over three young boys Tom's age. One boy was obviously Abraxas, who was closest to the door. The boy had his legs crossed at the ankles; his hands positioned behind his head and he was grinning from ear to ear.

"My _name_," said the tall man, who was obviously Alcott, "is Mr. _Aylwin_, even _Alcott_, and not _Baldy_, show some respect, young man!"

The end of that sentence seemed to encourage the other two boys and soon all three of them were laughing. It wasn't until Lady Malfoy coughed lightly to gain their attention that they all swivelled in the seats to look across the room. The two boys sitting beside Abraxas sat straighter in their seats, but Abraxas, if anything, seemed to lounge even further in his seat.

What an arrogant little twerp.

"Hello there, mother!" he called jovially from across the room. "Ah! And I see you brought along with you some riffraff from earlier!"

Almost as if it was against their will, laughter bubbled through the throats of the other two boys. One of the boys, a brunette, laughed hard enough to start hiccoughing and the other blond boy had stood up in his seat to get a better look at the 'riffraff.'

Tom bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from getting angry in front of Lady Malfoy, but now the second blond boy – who was slighter taller than Abraxas – had walked towards the pair of them and extended his hand towards Tom.

"Aren't you going to introduce us Auntie?" he asked and when Lady Malfoy didn't reply, he continued. "Hello, Riffraff, my name is Benjamin Mulciber."

Tom clenched his teeth hard enough to hurt his jaw. Lady Malfoy stepped towards Benjamin and tapped his nose lightly. "That is not how we speak nor behave in front of guests, is it?"

"My apologies, My Lady, they are being most difficult this afternoon," said Mr. Aylwin.

Lady Malfoy sighed dramatically, "Alcott, they are always difficult." And that sent the boys into peals of laughter again. "Now apologise boys; Tom is a friend of mine and I want you do befriend him also."

Tom wanted nothing to do with them, but he wanted to impress Lady Malfoy and he wanted to show her that he was better than that, but dear God, was it difficult to reign in his temper!

Abraxas walked towards Tom and sneered, making his pointing face even pointier, his expression ugly.

"But, mother," he began. "Look at him! He doesn't even wear the right clothes! He's clearly a mudblood," he turned towards Benjamin and the brunette behind him, Tom had no idea what a mudblood was but it was obviously derogatory. "You know, mother treats him and his waste-of-space brother like charity cases; feeding them, patting them on their smelly little heads," the boys chortled at his description and Tom felt his blood boil, how dare he? How _dare_ he?

"In fact, his brother is out there in our gardens right now begging for a job, the pathetic little –"

And suddenly Tom couldn't take it anymore. He snapped.

He lunged for Abraxas' neck, hands gripping at the silly little, frilly tie on his stupid, girly...

And then there were hands on him, pulling him back but Tom hadn't done anything yet, he hadn't ripped the boy's pretty little hair out from his scalp yet for one and he hadn't nearly hit him as hard he could yet. So Tom aimed a solid punch to his nose and kept raining more and more until he was ripped completely off the crying boy.

"Don't you _ever_! Don't you _ever _say those...! You have no _right_!" Tom screamed, his voice being ripped from his throat, throat becoming sore, his breathing becoming jagged as fury fuelled his very soul. He lunged himself again at the blooded boy who scampered back, tears running down his red face... and then Tom was being pulled back against Lady Malfoy's chest. From the corner of his eye he could see the other boys running to the corner of the room like pathetic little cowards and Lady Malfoy was whispering soothing words to calm him down, but Tom couldn't hear anything...

He could hear a roaring in his ears and blood pound in his head. Tom could've sworn his heart was going to explode. He didn't like these people any more – they were just as bad as _them_! As bad as those _non-magic people_ at the orphanage and at his school. They were the _same_! They shunned him _there _for his magic and they shunned him _here_ for his lack of money!

He didn't _want_ to be here anymore, he wanted to find Sebastian. He _needed_ to find Sebastian. "Let me _go!"_ He harshly pushed Lady Malfoy off of him, not having any time to see the look of shock and hurt that settled on her face, as he ran out of the room.

oOo

Harry had finished his own tour of the gardens and he concluded that they were more complicated than he thought. He decided to make things simpler, however, by walking around and drawing an aerial plan of the garden. He took in the size, which he measured with several nifty spells that he learnt over the years; he jotted down the colours and the breed of the flowers and noted down which ones suffered through the autumn weather the most. He climbed up the trees and discovered that some of them produced flowers, others bore fruits and some hadn't made anything at all. He recognised at least the majority of the plants, thanks to his aunt Petunia _(thanks, aunt Petunia!)_ and the rest he simply sketched in to revise later on. Harry was determined to make the garden meet Lady Malfoy's expectations; he owed her that much.

It was probably another thirty minutes into his analysis of the garden that he noticed that someone had entered the large conservatory room that Harry had come from in order to enter the garden. There was a man there, standing there staring unabashedly at Harry as he worked. Harry ignored it at first, continuing with the work that he had made for himself: conjuring quills and parchment, bending down to touch the soil and testing it to see if it was still fertile, but eventually having a person stare at him was reminding Harry of his time with his friends on the run.

Just as Harry had turned to look at the man again – who Harry could see had a long blond hair pulled up in a braid across one shoulder – he heard the distinct _pop!_ of a house elf. Harry hesitated and wondered what a house elf was doing out in the gardens; Lady Malfoy had especially told him that although they _could_ physically, house elves weren't allowed to leave the house (Hermione would have loved that) so unless the elf was ordered to go out...

_Pop!_ And Harry was sure that it was an elf now, and that it most likely just left the gardens. What was it doing out here anyway –?

Suddenly, Harry heard the unmistakable sound of Tom's cry. "Sebastian?"

Harry whipped his head around to see Tom pelting his way through the gardens towards him. Harry could see that the blond man hadn't moved even when Tom had run passed him. Harry took a few steps closer to Tom who was eventually close enough to throw himself around Harry's waist. Harry staggered backwards but managed to maintain both of their balance. He wrapped his arms around Tom's shoulders and realised that he was shaking almost violently.

"Tom? Tom, what happened?" Harry asked trying to see Tom's face.

"I want to go _home_; I want to go home, _now_. _Please_," Tom exclaimed and Harry could hear how chocked he sounded.

_Does Tom think of the Inn as home now?_ Harry thought absentmindedly.

"Please, Sebastian, I hate it, I hate it here!"

"Tom, please just tell me what's happened," for the life of him, Harry couldn't guess at all. Hadn't Tom been enthusiastic at being invited to the Manor? Or seeing Lady Malfoy?

"They're all horrible, all of them, I can't stand them!"

Harry sighed and tried to guess as best as he could, but the only horrible person he knew within this house was that little monster, Abraxas. Harry tried to tilt Tom's head so that he could peer into his eyes, but Tom refused to cooperate.

"Was it Abraxas? Did you argue?" he asked, but Tom still hadn't replied, he only held him tighter about the waist and Harry could only assume that he was at least partly right.

Harry saw movement up ahead of him and he spied the blond man – could he be Mr. Malfoy? – move closer to the glass in front him and for the first time, Harry noted, the man finally showed something on his face...and it looked like...expectation?

And that's when Harry heard it, the sound of hissing further up in front of him, between him and Tom and the blond man. At the sound of the hissing, Tom swivelled his head around try to look at where the source of the reverberation had come from. Tom's red and blotchy face peered behind Harry's frame and he finally detangled himself to take a closer look at the sitting snake that sat there innocently.

Where had the snake even come from? He hadn't seen any places where any snake could live comfortably in the gardens – everything was too..._looked after._ Unless...

Why _did_ that house elf pop into the garden? Harry looked up at the blond man who was staring at Tom now with such fascination that it couldn't be normal, and Harry finally understood. He watched Tom approach the snake who was only a hatchling, really, but it was an adder and it was still poisonous.

Harry could hear the adder ask in confusion about it's location, about it's previous home.

_Please,_ it sometimes whispered in fear and that's when Tom first spoke in Parseltongue and the man froze.

"_Don't be afraid,"_ Tom hissed and he slowly stretched out an arm towards it which Harry quickly grabbed back.

"Don't be stupid, Tom!" he whispered to him dragging him closer but Tom wriggled out.

The snake had started exclaiming that the two-legged creatures should not be speaking it's tongue and that it wasn't possible, but Tom kept hissing back, explaining that he was different, that he was _special_...and all the while, the blond man had become stunned, his eyes wide with excitement whilst still trained on Tom and...Was that appreciation?

Had he brought the snake here as a test? For Harry and Tom? Did Lady Malfoy tell him everything that they had discussed?

Roughly pushing Tom behind him, Harry came closer to adder and asked: "_Youngling, please, who brought you here?"_

The snake appeared to cock its brilliant patterned head to one side to gaze up at Harry, "_The Shiny One did, Two-legged."_

"_The Shiny One?_ _The other two-legged one?"_ Harry asked, his hisses growing angrier at the end of that declaration. Who else could the Shiny One be, but the blond man staring intently back at them?

Harry's angry eyes met the grey eyes from across the garden, and whatever the man had seen made him take a step back. Harry finally understood: the man wanted to test that they really were descendents of Salazar Slytherin and what better way than to use one of his traits as the first test?

* * *

**AN:** I hoped you enjoyed the new chapter. I had great fun writing Abraxas. All I had to do was picture my sister :) Please let me know if you are enjoying it so far and if you like where it's heading – either review or PM me. I am still learning as a writer and I want to develop as much as possible. Tom hasn't show many dark tendencies just yet, but at the moment I want to explain how Harry has been developing after the Final Battle, and hopefully that has come across well. Tom's darkness will come later ;)


	7. Chapter 7 I Am

**A Chance in Time**

"To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man." – W. Shakespeare.

**Chapter 7: I Am **

It was a strange day, the day Evangeline Malfoy stumbled upon little Tom Riddle and his brother Sebastian White. She had woken up very early that day, to console her husband, Preston, who was obviously trying to make a hole in the carpet of his office as he paced back and forth from the hearth to his desk. He was still wearing last night's midnight-blue robes (minus his shoes and socks) from when she and Preston had come back from the theatre, and it was only an hour after they arrived home that Preston received an owl from one of his business associates. He was clearly upset, if his clenched jaw and angry muttering was anything to go by. Evangeline remembered that he had told her that the Malfoy's lost a business yesterday – something that she didn't understand at all. It wasn't a woman's job to understand, Preston had said when she enquired and she left it at that. She took his brash tone as a dismissal and, wrapping her silken Egyptian robe around her body more tightly, she then went to comfort her boy, Abraxas, who was always so afraid of the thunder and lightning since she could remember. It was still early morning – almost five o'clock - so she lay beside him and tried to soothe him back to sleep.

It was only an hour later that one of the house elves entered the room to explain that over half of the house elves were sick with Marcomb's Magical Exhaustion Influenza and were simply too ill to work. The elves couldn't use any of their magic at all! Evangeline sighed and addressed the matter the only way she could and dealt with it herself: she dismissed _all_ the house elves for the day and told them to stay away from herself, Preston and Abraxas – she didn't know if this influenza was contagious for wizards, but she certainly was not going to risk it. Then she got dressed and left the warmth of the Manor; it was up to her to find breakfast this morning, and as the Lady of the house, it was her job to look after her men.

She had not predicted that Hogsmeade was going to be so busy that morning, so finding any sustenance was proving to be more difficult as the morning progressed. But her thoughts were quickly evaporated at the sight of a little boy – no older than her Abraxas – standing in the cold in grey-stripped pyjamas, sodden from top to bottom. The poor boy didn't even have any shoes! She didn't know what took her to the boy. Maybe she likened that stubborn jaw of the boy to Abraxas', or maybe it was the sight of those tears, but something told her to investigate the matter. And she was glad that she did. Later, when she had discovered that the boy had a brother that was having a distressing panic attack in the middle of a busy Hogsmeade, she had no choice but to look after them.

And oh, how the boys cared for each other! How they watched each other without even realising it, how Sebastian would stop eating sometimes so that he may encourage his brother to eat. How Tom would sneak little looks at his brother while speaking to Evangeline – as if to make sure he was still there.

Evangeline always thought family was important and discovering that they were both orphans cut her to the quick! For a second, she could barely breathe. The boys were so young! She was only slightly older than Sebastian was when she lost her own mother and, soon after, he dear father.

The more she spoke to the boys, the more she became more besotted with them – they really did possess nothing and nobody, and yet Sebastian was still generous enough to want to pay for their meal. It was a blessing really that Marcus had stepped in to offer the meal on the house as she simply couldn't image how the boys would foot the bill. And she would not let them foot the bill. What kind of Lady would she have been if she had made _orphans_ pay for her meal? Such shame...

It was towards the end of their breakfast, when Evangeline really did have to depart in order to find something for her own family to eat, that she seemed to have angered Sebastian. Maybe he had too much pride, maybe he was suspicious of her kindness, but she seemed to notice quickly that young Sebastian did not trust her. He became angry too quickly at her imploring queries and though it appeared that he tried to reign in that anger, the magic that leapt out of him was simply astounding.

Such magic, such dark and suffocating magic; magic that made the hair on her arms rise up, magic that stole the very breath from her lungs. Magic that seemed to have left her utterly disturbed and intimidated. Did Sebastian know he had magic that dark? Did he know that faces had turned to look their way?

Evangeline quickly dismissed that idea of telling him however, and truth be told, she was a little afraid of his reaction. And while Evangeline was trying to catch her breath, she distracted him with another question she wanted to know so much about to which Sebastian was willing to give, and finally, Sebastian told the story of his family. The family that couldn't raise them. The Gaunt family...and that was when Evangeline finally realised.

Weren't the Gaunts insane? Weren't they so inbred that they became distant from civilisation? So different? So fearsome? Evangeline recognised the story that Sebastian had told her – it was the talk of pureblood society when it became news that the youngest Gaunt married a Muggle, thus destroying the pure line. If Evangeline was truly honest, she would say that it was about time to dilute that inbred blood...

But that wasn't proper talk from a pureblood Lady. She'd leave the politics to the men.

As she left the cafe and bakery and bid them a good morning, Evangeline vowed to find as much as possible about the Gaunts...she was almost sure that they were linked to Salazar Slytherin himself...

...and her thoughts were confirmed when she confided in Preston later that morning. And oh! How Preston's eyes had lit up, icy grey crystals shone an excited shade of blue that sent shivers down Evangeline spine. Evangeline was suddenly worried. Preston had obviously recognised the name and he gripped Evangeline's shoulders with both hands as he urged her to keep visiting the boys for breakfast every morning. He wouldn't explain further, but she had never seen him so determined.

He used glamour for the bags and darkness under his eyes and went to find fresh new clothes for the day.

Preston Malfoy had a plan.

oOo

Something had happened. Something monumental had happened. And Harry and Tom were at the centre of it. The centre of a devious plan that Harry deduced a certain blond-haired man had devised. And Harry was not happy.

Before he even realised what he was doing, he had already lifted a hand to banish the snake with a flick of his wrist, much to Tom's cry of distress and the man's sharp gasp. Not once did his eyes leave the figure standing stock still behind the protection of the glass wall. Harry walked towards him.

Those angry thoughts that he had pushed away when arguing with Tom surfaced again one hundred times more intense than before. He felt his anger send tremors up and down his frame as he tried to distil several thoughts being _crammed_ into his mind.

_He was going to hurt us._

_No different than any other Malfoy._

_He was going to hurt _Tom_._

_...tried so hard to get this far._

_He was going to _kill Tom.

_...just to make the plan all go to _nought?

_He doesn't deserve to breathe!_

_How dare he? How dare –_

Fists clenched tightly, Harry started walking towards the blond man; his legs not cooperating with his mind at all...

"Mr. Malfoy, I presume?" he asked voice deepened, heady with the magic that was seeping through his very pores.

The blond man nodded in confirmation, but he did so in a confused manner, as if he was stepping out of a fog or waking up from a long sleep. The man blinked several times and shook his head as if trying to dispel that feeling...

The feeling of being _crushed._

And with each step, the man seemed to have faltered in his speech, and whatever he was saying Harry couldn't hear at all in the roar of angry thoughts. Suddenly, the man started breathing heavily, eyes wide as he stared at Harry, and he could vaguely hear Tom calling his name.

Calling him to stop, to come back.

The man was having difficulty standing up now and Harry watched as Mr. Malfoy took two hands to grip his head, whispers of white-blond hair escaping their braid, blood vessels became prominent on his temples. He had his eyes screwed shut and he fell to his knees, like a puppet with his strings cut –

Hands pulled Harry back from behind him. Tiny hands that were too small to be an adult's. Hands that were trembling – that belonged to a voice that was begging and begging for him to stop.

"Please, Sebastian, ple –" the voiced hiccoughed. Harry stopped. Was that Tom? Was he crying?

It was like the wind was suddenly lost from the sails of a boat at sea. The boat had a destination but it no longer had a force. Harry stopped still in his tracks.

"Tom?"

"Sebastian!" cried a voice and Harry saw Lady Malfoy running towards them. She stopped at where her husband was on the floor, on his hands and knees. He was shaking his head disorientated and Lady Malfoy looked so _afraid._

_**Wretched, weak, feeble thing...**_

"Please, stop, Sebastian, look at what you're doing to him," she cried. She had both of her arms wrapped around her husband's shoulders as she pulled him back so that he rested his head on her chest.

"Evangeline?" Mr. Malfoy asked voice soft.

_**How utterly pathetic. **_

Behind them, Harry saw Abraxas walk towards his parents and –

Dear Merlin, what happened to his face?

"Tom?" Harry called and then Tom was in front of him, gripping him about his waist and chanting over and over again to _take him back home_. Shaking his head, Harry called his magic back to him, as if pulling a fishing line. The magic snapped back into place, wrapping itself around Harry like a blanket and Harry felt nauseous at how quick it happened.

From where he stood, he could see colour returning back to Mr. Malfoy's face. Harry took in Mr. Malfoy's form on the ground and he shuddered at the sight. _Was he really going to kill him? _And for some reason, that didn't frighten him the way it should have.

"Did you do that, Tom? To that snot's face?" he enquired when his thoughts were quickly stolen by Abraxas' demur stance beside his father. The rush of magic that he used was making him quickly lethargic and he sank to his knees in front of Tom.

Tom laughed nervously, through the tears and the horror in his eyes. Harry wiped those tears away with his fingers and brought him closer into a hug which Tom welcomed back gratefully if a little stiffly.

Suddenly, Harry heard laughter and both he and Tom looked up to see that the source was Mr. Malfoy. His head was still propped up against Lady Malfoy's chest with Abraxas to his left, holding his father's hand.

"That, little Slytherin, was simply..." he breathed, opening his eyes to look at Harry. Lady Malfoy gasped beside him. "Sebastian, isn't it? I knew you'd be spectacular. I knew you'd be just as I imagined."

Harry shook his head amazed at his declaration. The wind seemed to want to steal his breath away as it swayed the trees and moved the grass, flowers seemed to dance the same dance as the hair on their heads."I should kill you for that. I _could've_ have killed you for that."

"For what?" he asked innocently, he was trying to sit up now with the help of his wife and child.

_**How disgusting, how vulnerable he looks, doesn't he Harry?**_

"For the test!" he snarled. "For trying to hurt us!"

"What is wrong with your eyes, Sebastian?" Lady Malfoy whispered so quietly that Harry could barely hear her.

_**You should destroy them, Harry, before they become your enemy. Kill them now, Harry.**_

_No. Oh, Merlin, not again,_ Harry thought in utter panic, quickly recognising the voice. _Not him, please –_

_**Kill them now, Harry!**_

"No!" Harry cried, suddenly standing up, pushing the voice away. The voice that just wouldn't _leave._ "Get away from me! I've already won!" But Voldermort's thoughts were still pressing and _pressing_ in his mind.

"Sebastian? I –?"

"No! Not _you_, Tom, _never you_..." Harry turned to look at Lady Malfoy and Mr. Malfoy. "You! This is your entire fault!" For the life of him, he couldn't remember how he pushed Voldermort's thoughts the last time he was in his mind, the last time he urged him to kill. To kill Ron and Hermione.

As always after Voldermort invaded his thoughts and feelings, Harry's senses became more refined: he could smell the alarm running through everyone's thoughts and emotions, he felt their confusion and dread thick like syrup and he whimpered at the thought of having panic attack at the onslaught of senses rushed through him.

"Sebastian, please," whispered Lady Malfoy. "Please, you must forgive my husband. He is a power-hungry man as were all Malfoy men before him!" she sounded angry now, more than she was afraid. And with that, she got up, pushing her husband completely off of her so that she could rush towards them. He fell on the ground in a graceless heap.

"Wait, Eva! You don't know if it's safe!" cried her husband.

"Mother, please!" Abraxas shouted at the same time.

"_You_ _be quite,_ Preston!" she shouted back as she rushed to pull the glass door open. "I am angry at you! _And you will not speak to me!"_ her voice sound strained with each breath as she rushed towards the two boys, hands fisted into her long skirts. She sounded like she was on the verge of crying and the few gasps ripped from her throat indicated that she was very close to shedding those angry tears.

When she finally reached them, she did not hesitate in wrapping those arms around the two boys and disapparating straight from the gardens and into one of the living room.

oOo

They had been in the living room for almost an hour now. An hour for Harry's anger to begin to fade; an hour for him to be strong enough to push Voldermort's voice back into the furthest crevice of his mind. An hour for Tom to finally stop crying. An hour and Lady Malfoy was still pacing and pacing and pacing...

Harry sat with Tom lying vertically on his lap, he looked like he was fast asleep but Harry knew that that wasn't the case. He could hear him sniffing and sometimes he would call Sebastian's name and when Harry would reply, Tom was whisper that he was just checking that he was still there...

Was Harry still there? Or was he Sebastian now? Was Voldermort's just waiting for another chance inside him, urging to kill for the sake of killing, to control him? Was Harry dead now? Something was happening to Harry and there was no one there to help him.

_What was he going to _do?

"I am truly sorry," Lady Malfoy said, no longer pacing. "I am truly sorry for what had transpired today. I do not know what possessed him to think that way." Although her voice was eerily calm, her whole body seemed to radiate tension.

Was she really angry for their sake? Harry had a hard time believing it.

Walking slowly towards them, Lady Malfoy sat down beside them so that Tom's head almost touched her shoulder. She lifted one long-fingered hand to brush the hair from Tom's forehead.

"Will you forgive the Malfoy's one day, Sebastian?" she asked as she leaned in to kiss Tom lightly on his brow.

Harry didn't know how to push her away without angering himself to the point of using his magic, so he settled on clenching his jaw and breathing in deeply.

"It wasn't you're fault, Lady Malfoy," Tom said quietly in Harry's arms and Lady Malfoy only smiled indulgently.

"I thought you were asleep, my Tom," she said and she shook her head tiredly. For a second, Harry thought she looked incredibly young. "But it is my fault, Tom, I should have never told Preston about you. I should have known –"

"Mother?" asked a voice timidly, which Harry knew belonged to Abraxas. Had Mr. Malfoy sent him to do the dirty work for him? Did he think that maybe cute, little Abraxas could melt his darling mother's heart?

"Mummy, are you alright?" he asked and his voice was thick with tears.

Lady Malfoy head snapped up to look at the large door that Abraxas was behind. She spared a look at Harry quickly before looking back down at her hands placed delicately on her lap. Harry knew that she was debating with whether to open the door to admit her son in but didn't want to offend him.

Sighing for the umpteenth time, Harry rearranged Tom in this lap so that Tom's head lay rested against his shoulder now. "Go see to your son, Lady Malfoy. He's calling for you."

Head still bowed, brilliant blue eyes looked up to meet Harry's. "Abraxas should also be reprimanded, Sebastian, he picked a fight with Tom. It is not how I raised him, you understand."

Harry nodded his understanding, but regardless...he didn't want to get involved with the family but Abraxas was only a child, really – and what kind of role model of a father did he have anyway? "I think he's sorry now."

"I _am_ sorry, so sorry. So, so, so sorr –" Abraxas called from the other side.

"That's enough, Abraxas," Lady Malfoy called back, raising one eyebrow whilst staring at the door as if she could see past it.

"I won't ever do it again, Mummy, I promise!" he called again.

Harry could see Tom smirking against his shoulder.

"A baby, isn't he?" Harry asked quietly to Tom who giggled, one hand covering his mouth as if he couldn't help it.

"I am not!" Abraxas called back and Tom couldn't help the bubble of laughter that came out this time. Lady Malfoy smiled beside him.

"You may come in only if Tom has forgiven you, Abraxas," she stated coolly whilst turning to the boy in question.

"I don't know..." Tom asked as if greatly troubled, though that smile never left his lips. "I was terribly offended..."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Abraxas, that is not how we apologise is it?" Lady Malfoy chastised curtly.

"Alright, alright!" he huffed, but it was clear that he was still panicking and may start crying again. They could hear him take in a deep breath before talking again. "I'm sorry for being rude, Tom. I shan't do it again, and...and...you may have my broom, no wait! You may _borrow_ my broom." He huffed again. "Alright, fine, you may have it, but only if you let me borrow it sometime!"

Harry couldn't help a snort of amusement. What a funny way of apologising.

Searching Tom's still pale face placed on his shoulder, Harry realised that he was confused about why anyone would want a _broom_.

"Er..." Tom began unsure. "A broom?" and Harry's smile stretched wider at how puzzled Tom looked. The boy was usually so sure of everything.

"Oh, _alright!_ I'll throw in my new book on dragons. Father bought it for my birthday, but you may have it if you want. Dragons are boring now, anyway – _don't tell Father I said that_," he added quickly. The boy really did talk a lot.

"Um...OK..."

"Oh, excellent!" Abraxas cried, noticeably relieved. They could hear some shuffling as he giggled in delight. "May I come in now?"

oOo

Harry stretched his whole body from top to bottom, when Tom finally rolled off to sit beside the unlit fireplace. The eight-year old was sitting there, staring pensively and Harry didn't have the strength to approach him and ask questions.

Every now and then Harry would watch Tom look up and gaze at Lady Malfoy who was spending quite a lot of time tending to the bruises on her son's face. She was doing an excellent job at stopping the blood and reducing any swelling on his lip and cheekbone, but the bruises were very stubborn to remove. Harry felt pride for his brother at making such a fine effort of disfiguring the little blond twerp. Finally, though, Lady Malfoy managed to bring the colour of his bruises down to a mute yellow colour. _As a reminder,_ Harry thought, _of thinking before acting._

Tom was too amazed to simply sit back, so eventually he got up and slowly made his way to where the two purebloods sat, to watch them. Harry's thoughts started drifting to the third member of the Malfoy family and through the fatigue that seemed to make his whole body feel heavy; Harry could feel the underlying anger towards the man.

He couldn't help himself, really, when he found himself walking towards the living room door and quietly letting himself out. He had to find Mr. Malfoy. He had to make him sorry for what he did – almost did.

He heard his name being called out by Lady Malfoy and then Tom but nobody followed him out. Harry continued down the long corridor of the East Wing and used his newly acquired skill, courtesy of a brilliant book Harry had discovered when he had first started panicking about his new powers, to 'sniff' out any magical beings.

After passing two house elves and a very tall blue plant that seemed to _move_, Harry finally sensed magic coming from a room at the very end of the second corridor. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, yes, it smelt like magic and...fear.

He didn't understand it, but Harry became excited at the prospect of _seeing_ that fear.

Fingers grazing the walls lightly, Harry walked towards the middle of the corridor, towards where he could hear footsteps and angry muttering. When he reached the room – or an office perhaps, judging by the gargantuan black desk placed at the back and the many shelves of books – he was not surprised to find an agitated Mr. Malfoy pacing back and forth.

Harry studied him from where he stood, while he still could as Mr. Malfoy still hadn't noticed him yet. The man had a metal poker in his loose grip and he was in the process of lighting the fire in the fireplace, except he was shaking too much to even concentrate on the incantation to make that happen. Harry frowned pensively, if Mr. Malfoy had planned this whole debacle, had he not considered the consequences? Did he assume that it would just end there?

"You must have been desperate," Harry said quietly and watched how Mr. Malfoy tensed. His back was towards Harry and he seemed to freeze in place at the sound of Harry's voice. The smell of fear almost overwhelmed Harry's senses.

Mr. Malfoy straightened up so that he wasn't hunched over, and the poker in his hand seemed to be gripped more tightly now. Slowly he turned to face Harry, a calm yet apprehensive look on his face.

_The Malfoy's were always very good at keeping their faces blank, weren't they?_ Thought Harry, _but they were always cowards, too._

"Desperate?" the blond man seemed to whisper, cocking his head to one side, as if assessing the green-eyed boy. "For what?"

"I was hoping _you_ could answer that, actually, Mr. Malfoy." Harry took his first step into the room and stood a few feet from the man. "Perhaps, desperate to have the Slytherin boys under your thumb – and it's plain that your wife told you that much, hm?"

Mr. Malfoy began shaking again. "What have you done to my wife, my boy?"

Harry scoffed irritably, "don't pretend to care about anyone other than yourself." He shook his head. "You planned this all for yourself – for your gain, didn't you?"

Mr. Malfoy took a step back until the back of his legs met the front of his desk, which Harry could see was overtaken with parchments of various lengths.

"I did it for the Malfoy name. I didn't predict that it would get that far, Mr. White. May I call you Sebastian?"

Harry's face formed into an expression of disgust. _"No."_

Mr. Malfoy smiled suddenly showing perfect, straight, white teeth. "As confident and to-the-point as Eva said. And you are only a child, aren't you?" He suddenly ducked his head as if shy. "I admit, it was quite underhanded of me to use my wife this way, to gain as much information about you. But the Malfoy's were never one to let an excellent opportunity to pass. An opportunity to see you for myself, to have you acquainted with the family... Do you have any idea how much prestige and nobility the Slytherin family holds?" He scoffed lightly, smiling slightly, "No, you wouldn't, you were _muggle-_raised weren't you?" he wrinkled his nose at the word as if it shouldn't be uttered.

"Is that it?" Harry asked, almost rolling his eyes at reference to being muggle-raised. "That you had no other choice because that's just who you are?" Mr. Malfoy opened his mouth to retaliate and Harry stepped forward until he was an arms-length from the Malfoy patriarch. The words died at Mr. Malfoy's lips. "It must be so easy, isn't it? To control everyone like puppets. But I refuse to let you control Tom and I like you see fit. You would not want to make an enemy out of me, Mr. Malfoy. Because child or not, I can make your very existence incredibly intolerable." And with this, Harry let out a few wisps of magic to reach out towards the man, so that they wrapped around his magical core like warm tendrils.

"Be sure," Harry continued stepping close enough that he was only inches from Mr. Malfoy, eyes darkening, "to watch your step as you proceed, Mr. Malfoy; Tom and I are far more magically advanced than you hope you'll ever be."

Mr. Malfoy shuddered as the warm tendrils became scorching hot, his core now at the centre of being ripped out, and his eyes widened as panic seemed to surge through him.

"Do you understand, Mr. Malfoy?"

"My family – "

Harry was already shaking his head. "You never hurt my family and I'll never hurt yours."

Mr. Malfoy stood rigid and stared at the young man with admiration in his eyes, even as fear seemed to be pumping through his veins. "I see we have an understanding, Mr. White," he whispered breathlessly.

Harry's lips stretched into a parody of smile. A smile that looked a lot like Lord Voldermort's.

"Yessss, we do."

oOo

It had taken a while before Tom had finally left the warmth of Sebastian's lap to sit with Abraxas in the far corner of the living room. For the hundredth time that day, Tom marvelled at the richness and detail of the manor. It really was beautiful.

And yet, Abraxas was quite unfazed by it; he never once stared at anything in awe, not once did he jump when the house elf _popped_ into the room several times holding trays laden with food, and most importantly he seemed to know a lot of things about magic.

_Well, he has a tutor, hasn't he?_ Tom thought wistfully.

Abraxas sighed and moved a Knight on the magical chess board sitting between them. Tom smiled as he watched the Knight stomp threateningly at Tom's Pawn before it smashed it to pieces. Despite this, Tom was still winning their impromptu game.

_At least that's one thing I have over Abraxas,_ he thought,_ chess and strategy are definitely mine._

He quickly glanced to his side to see his brother discussing something with Lady Malfoy; he had his body turned to the window of the room and a hard frown marring his forehead. The scar on his forehead looked very fresh and red, now. Tom wracked his brain and tried to remember if it was always so red –

"You're going to beat me anyway, Tom," Abraxas stated defeated bringing Tom's thoughts back to the game.

Tom looked back and saw a weary Abraxas leaning heavily on his hands. "You don't know that. You might win."

_As if._

"Hardly," Abraxas said and ordered one of his pieces to move diagonally. Tom shook his head at this; if Abraxas wanted to win then he would have to sacrifice one of his pieces. Sometimes sacrifice was important.

"Check mate," Tom whispered, cornering his queen with another quick move.

Abraxas shrugged nonchalantly, "Another game?" he asked.

"Um...alright."

Abraxas began setting up another game, while Tom thought through the events of the day. They were still 'trapped' in the living room and Mr. Malfoy was _somewhere_ around the house, doing God knew what. Sebastian had stepped out earlier from the living room and even though he called out to him, his brother never returned until a few minutes later. What he did in those few minutes were a mystery to Tom, but Sebastian came back more silent than before. More pensive.

He chanced another glance at his brother and Lady Malfoy and saw that they were still standing next to the window staring into the garden. What were they discussing anyway? Abraxas had apologised for starting the fight but they didn't make Tom apologise for hitting him back. Were they too angry to even ask? Tom squirmed in his seat at the prospect of seeing an angry Harry again. He hated to say it, but...Sebastian was simply frightening.

Although, Sebastian said he would never hurt him, Tom was smart enough to recognise that sometimes...sometimes, it looked like Sebastian couldn't even _control_ his anger. And the magic! That magic that escaped Sebastian like that. As scary as that magic was...Tom dreamed he could have magic like that. Magic that gripped you unrelentingly like death.

"Ready to begin?" Abraxas asked across from him and Tom nodded. He could see that the bruises that Abraxas had started to develop were very faint now that Lady Malfoy saw to him, she had spent quite some time flicking her wand and whispering Latin names – Tom wanted asked why Sebastian didn't use a wand, but he didn't want to seem foolish in front of Abraxas. It was bad enough that the boy saw Tom sitting on Sebastian's lap like a little _baby_, for crying out loud. Tom focused on the Abraxas again; he didn't seem frightened anymore but he did look really pathetic: his collar ripped, blood stains on the white material and the bruises a now faint, sickly yellow colour. Tom bit the inside of his cheek as he thought about his own anger and how he couldn't control it when Abraxas and the other two boys had pushed him. Perhaps there was still a chance for him to become like his brother – to become fierce and strong and to make people like Mr. Malfoy very afraid of him.

"Tom?" Abraxas sniffed and winced slightly at the use of his damaged nose and Tom almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"Yeah, let's begin," Tom said and moved his first Pawn.

oOo

"Sorry, by the way. About your face." Tom wasn't really sorry, he would never forget what Abraxas said to him – what he called him and his brother. He would always remember. But Abraxas was the child of Lady Malfoy, and as a favour to her, he would forgive him, but would never forget.

Abraxas looked up and smirked. "This is nothing," – he pointed to his face – "You should have seen me when I fell off my broom a few weeks ago."

Tom frowned at the sentence. Was that a wizarding phrase? To 'fall off a broom'?

"You fell off a ...?"

"Broom, yes, it's only a kiddie one, mind, but Father took the protection charms off it when I begged and begged."

"Protection charms..."

"Yes, there were loads! It was definitely worth it though."

Really?

"My Mr. Aylwin used to be the tutor for Samson Sanderson, you know," Abraxas said pompously. He puffed his chest out a bit. "And he said he would teach me a trick or two that Sanderson taught him."

"Sanderson?"

Abraxas nodded his head excitedly and Tom thought he looked like a toy doing that. "From the Appleby Arrows. A professional Quidditch player, can you believe it?"

Tom shook his head. No, he most definitely couldn't believe it. He couldn't even _understand _it.

"How long have you had Mr. Aylwin?" Tom asked and hoped the look of longing didn't cross his face like it did his heart.

Shrugging his shoulders, Abraxas moved a chess piece. "Maybe a year? Or almost a year, perhaps." He looked up in the direction of his mother and called out to her. "Mother!"

What was he doing now?

Lady Malfoy stopped mid-sentence in her discussion with Sebastian, who was facing her with his hands crossed against his chest, to frown at her son. "Don't bellow, Abraxas."

"Sorry, Mother," he said, though he didn't look even a little bit sorry. In fact, Tom thought he looked pleased to have his mother's attention – disgruntled or not. "How long has Mr. Aylwin been tutoring me for?"

Lady Malfoy sighed and sent an apologetic look towards Sebastian, whose green eyes crinkled in mild amusement. "It will be a year next month, I think," she paused as she looked at him. "Has he left now, Alcott?"

Abraxas nodded. "He even took Ben and Elliot back to their homes."

Lady Malfoy smiled and turned to look at Sebastian. "I've always liked Alcott, he never seems to panic."

"He seems like a good man from your description," Sebastian offered and Tom hated how tired and worn out he looked. He wished he could go to him and be near him without looking like a total pansy.

"Oh, he is. He's simply wonderful for the boys," she said and Sebastian glanced at Tom as if he felt his eyes on him.

"Why did you ask, Abraxas?" Lady Malfoy wondered.

"Tom was asking that's all, weren't you Tom?"

Tom shrugged and his face reddened; he hated having so many faces trained on him – it was strange having so much attention all at once. "I was just curious. I've never had a proper education." At the orphanage, no one would pay for the children's books and other essentials – no one cared that the orphans weren't getting an education.

There was a period of silence that rang across the room and Tom wished he hadn't said anything as he blushed further.

"Perhaps," his brother began cutting the silence, "once we're more settled in, I'll find you a tutor."

Tom sat straighter in his seat, pleasantly surprised. "Really?" he whispered a smile forming on his lips. Sebastian smiled and nodded once. Tom felt his heart soar; his brother really did think of him didn't he? He wasn't going to hurt him. He was going to _raise_ him.

"Thank you," Tom breathed excited at the prospect.

"Why wait?" Tom looked to Abraxas again who had blurted out the question. "Couldn't he just join Ben, Elliot and I?"

Tom's eyes widened, was Abraxas really offering what he thought he was offering?

"You would want that?" he asked him and the blond nodded energetically. "The class would be more even, too, so Benji wouldn't always have to pair up with Old Baldy!" he smirked.

Tom glanced at Lady Malfoy and tried to gauge her reaction, but she didn't seem affronted by the suggestion (or by Mr. Aylwin's nickname). In fact, she seemed...pleased?

She clapped her hands lightly once. "What a wonderful suggestion, Abraxas," she said and she turned to Tom, a radiant smile gracing her love-heart face. "What do you think? Tom? Sebastian?"

Sebastian frowned and looked slightly uncomfortable. "My Lady, we don't have the money at the moment –"

Tom himself was becoming uncomfortable, suddenly reminded of the argument he had with Sebastian about his job preferences.

"Let me think worry about that. Don't think about the money, Sebastain," Lady Malfoy cut in. "Think about an education –" she turned to Tom, "a future."

And oh, how Tom wanted an education and a future. But, Sebastian was right; they didn't have enough money for anything at the moment and it definitely didn't feel right taking more money from the Lady. She had given them enough really!

And Tom told her so. She laughed when he had finished and Tom imagined that his face was as red as a tomato. "Really, My Lady, we can't keep taking from you all the time," he reasoned.

She shook her head excitedly, hair whipping back and forth, and Tom thought she looked a lot like Abraxas then – minus the smirk. "Consider it an apology from my husband, then."

Tom and Sebastian shared a look across the room, they had almost forgotten about what would happen after they left the manor.

"What do you think, Tommy?" asked his brother, he was no longer facing the window now, all his attention was on Tom.

"Um..."

"Come on, you'll enjoy it, I promise," Abraxas said nudging Tom on the shoulder.

Tom thought about having a tutor, having an education and a future like Lady Malfoy said...

"Alright," he said. Tom smiled a brilliant smile.

* * *

**AN: **I think the quote at the top is accurate especially in the case of Harry and his problems with identity both past and future. Somewhere at the top were some clues as to why Harry rushed headfirst into the past I want to cram in as many chapters as possible before I go on holiday, but I don't want to update anything that I'm not happy about – anyway, the next month will be very trying for me so bare with me.


	8. Chapter 8 For the Future

**A Chance in Time**

**Chapter 7 – For the Future**

Tom could tell that Sebastian was frightened when Ian Doherty at Doherty's Inn informed them that they had to leave. He could see the lines around Sebastian's mouth become more pronounced like when Ms. Cole got cross – and she got cross a lot. He could hear the slight quiver in Sebastian's voice and see the tremors wrack his spine. But worse, Tom could see the beginning signs of a person becoming very agitated and –

And very panicked.

Without evening thinking, Tom found himself stepping up to his brother to try to console him. It was strange; he had never tried to make anyone _less_ uncomfortable before. His whole life, Tom simply _lived_ and _thrived_ in making someone absolutely miserable. He enjoyed the look of fear in their eyes, the embarrassment, and the absolute mortification at how ruthlessly Tom had gained something over them. But for some reason comforting his brother...well, it wasn't difficult at all. One thought kept repeating itself over and over in his mind: Sebastian had saved him many times before; he had to return the favour.

_Sebastian is my_ _brother_, Tom thought, _and it's my turn to save him. It's what I'm supposed to do._

So it wasn't awkward at all when he reached out a hand to grasp Sebastian's bigger hand and it felt almost natural the way he felt him squeeze his fingers back. And when he leaned his head to rest it against Sebastian's chest – and felt his pounding heart – Tom felt panicked _for_ him. He didn't want his brother to ever feel like that again, because _God_, what a horrible, _horrible_ feeling it was; to be so absolutely scared.

He knew Sebastian was finding it tough to get them some money – so that they could eat, to have clothes on their backs and, until two minutes ago, have somewhere to live – so he was most definitely under stress. And Tom _hated_ that, he really and truly hated it. He wanted to be angry at Sebastian. He wanted to accuse him of being worthless and stupid. But he couldn't. Sebastian was trying so hard to make it work. In a way, it reminded him of when he was back at the orphanage. Didn't Ms Cole accuse him of being worthless and stupid all the time? And didn't it cripple him sometimes so much that he felt like…Tom gulped just thinking about it. He felt like running away on more than one occasion and if Sebastian hadn't come...Well. Thank goodness Sebastian was here.

But he felt useless, like there was nothing he could do to ease the suffering that Sebastian was going through single-handedly –

And with a jolt, Tom realised something very important. Tom cared for Sebastian. He actually _cared_ for him. That feeling seemed to unsettle him and soothe him at the same time.

"Don't worry, Tom," Sebastian told him, voice in a light whisper. "I'll find a way out of this. I promise."

Tom shook his head astounded at how selfless his brother was. "Please, let me help," he whispered back – no, he _begged_ – over the noise of the patrons inside the inn, a strong feeling welling up inside of him that he couldn't even describe. "Please."

oOo

It took a few minutes for Mr. Doherty's final decision to settle in into Harry's head, for him to realise that they were being kicked out, that they had no money to pay for the rent of the room. That they were essentially and ultimately homeless.

And then that familiar feeling of being overwhelmed settled in on Harry. As if a weight had solidified on his chest making it difficult to breathe, difficult to think straight. And before he could even argue back to Mr. Doherty's admonition (that he wasn't allowed here again without any money – because Mr. Doherty needed to survive, too) Tom had already stepped up to comfort him. Worse, the eight-year-old wanted to _help_ him. Harry felt absolutely pathetic – being offered help from a child.

From _Tom Riddle._

At the same time, a thought made Harry stop and think. Had Tom ever offered help before? Had he wanted to comfort other people like he was comforting Harry with warm hugs and total dependence? Was this Tom Riddle already changing? Harry shut his eyes at the thought trying to think back to the memories in the Penseive that Dumbledore had showed him once before: had Tom ever had someone he could trust like he did with Harry?

Could Harry _really_ prevent the rise of Lord Voldemort?

Coupled with the warm presence of Tom beside him, that very thought helped Harry push the urge to panic away from the frame of his mind.

They were homeless now and Harry needed to think.

oOo

They had been walking for only ten minutes when the first idea popped into Harry's mind. It wasn't a great idea, and it wasn't completely legally sound...but it was better than nothing. The only thing was making sure there was no one there to see them. But Harry was a Gryffindor for a reason, and he was a bloody good Gryffindor at that.

He reached out a hand to direct Tom to the opposite direction they were walking in to begin another twenty-minute walk. He was glad Tom wasn't asking any questions though he knew that the boy had many. Tom simply loved to ask questions, he had to always know, so Harry was grateful that he was reigning in that part of him just then.

If he remembered correctly, because Harry had only been working there for one weekend, then the Old Woman at Books End should be away today. Hadn't she said that on Thursdays and Fridays she will always be away to stay with her daughter and her family? Harry remembered that the Old Woman had even smiled at the prospect of seeing her family – something that looked strange and unusual on her usually grumpy face.

_Family are important,_ Harry thought with a frown etching on his forehead as he glanced surreptitiously at Tom, _even the Old Woman appreciates that._ Was family more cherished here in the Wizarding world? Was it more important here than it was in the Muggle world? Harry thought back to the study room in Malfoy Manor when he had had that confrontation with Mr. Malfoy. _"What have you done to my wife, my boy?"_ he had asked panicked. At the time, Harry didn't think that the man valued his wife or his boy. But maybe he did.

_Maybe in the future…_Harry thought, _maybe if all this goes to plan, I would consider Tom as my family._

And maybe pigs would fly.

It was going to take a lot more than a few hugs or squeezing ickle Tom's hand for Harry to trust the boy who grew up to be Lord Voldemort.

_In the meantime,_ Harry thought determinedly, _let's survive the night._

Finally, they had reached the unmistakable structure that was Books End. It didn't take long to find the extra key placed behind the ugliest miniature stone statue that Harry had ever seen. He had stared at that statue several times and he still couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be. Nevertheless, the key was still there for the taking and Harry immediately tried opening the locked door. After hearing the distinct click of the door opening, Harry ushered a curious Tom inside the bookstore.

From the corner of his eye, Harry could see Tom looking around the bookstore speculatively before he whispered, "Is this were you work, Sebastian?"

Harry was already making his way to the fireplace where he arranged the logs inside before lighting it with a few murmured incantations. When was the last time he even used a wand? "Yes," he whispered back noting how dark and cave-like the bookstore appeared, "it's better than nothing, I suppose."

There was silence for a while when Tom starting perusing the titles of the books stacked in the shelves, frowning lightly when words like "pureblood", "animagus" and "lycanthropy" appeared in some of the spines. Harry, on the other hand, was trying very hard to ignore his muddled thoughts and was already sorting through his knowledge of the bookstore.

He knew that the store had two floors, that the first floor was just two conjoined rooms mainly used for new supplies. He knew that the Old Woman actually lived on the second floor. She had her own bedroom, a bathroom and – Harry's head snapped up at the thought - the Old Woman had a kitchen upstairs, too.

Hot-footing it to the second floor and hastily telling Tom to stay downstairs (though Tom barely heard him having found a newspaper article on a fearsome character named Grindelwald), Harry finally discovered the kitchen. He mumbled an apology for the Old Woman as he once again found himself taking food that didn't belong to him. He hoped it wouldn't become a habit.

It wasn't long before Harry managed to make some sandwiches for the pair of them, even managing to make them a pot of tea to warm them up.

"We'll pay her back," Harry told Tom as they tucked into a cheese and tomato sandwich – the best he could do with what he had found in the kitchen. "Everything we take today, we will give it back."

Tom chewed slowly and thought about Harry's words. "What will she say when you tell her?"

"I won't tell her," Harry smiled a weary smile, "well, I won't tell her _everything_," he quickly added, playing with some cheese that fell on the floor where they sat, near the fireplace. "I'll just tell her that she over-paid me last week or something."

Tom frowned. "But…"

"Hmm?"

"I.." Tom began, looking apprehensive. "Do we have to pay her back? I mean…we don't have anything to actually _give_…"

"I know we don't have anything, Tom," Harry said slowly, "but stealing is wrong." Didn't Ms Cole teach them about values at the Orphanage? No, no, of course she wouldn't – it was up to Harry wasn't it? He had to make sure that Tom knew these things, so that he knew the difference between right and wrong. Harry had to do it the proper way – not the convoluted way that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did; but how he imagined his own parents would have done it.

"Lying is wrong, too, Tom," Harry added feeling like a hypocrite but he had to say it, didn't he? "I'll have to tell her that I owed her the money – let her make her own conclusion as to why."

Tom smiled lightly, licking a few crumbs at the corner of his lips, "that's very…"

_Slytherin?_

"…thought out."

Harry had nothing to say.

oOo

He didn't know what instigated _this_ panic attack, but Harry was so glad that there was no one there to see him go through it again. Like a normal routine, Harry slid against the kitchen wall and screwed his eyes shut. His breathing was becoming an arduous and demanding chore and the palms of his hands soon starting sweating. The Old Woman would be back tomorrow and Harry and Tom had to leave within the next five hours so that she wouldn't see them. And then…

And then, what? What was he going to do? He wished Hermione and Ron were here, he wished they could talk to him. He wished he could beg them for a second chance and tell them that he was sorry now. They could be the Golden Trio again, they could be a family. And more importantly, they could _trust_ him again.

Tom had put trust into Harry and now Harry had the added responsibility of looking after a little boy. Had it just been himself, Harry wouldn't have cared much: he could've slept on the pavements or a park bench; he would have skipped several meals and only eaten when he had no other choice. He would have eventually found a way to make it work. But having a child to look after was difficult. So _difficult_. With a child, he had to think about the future. _Plan_ for the future. And Harry felt pathetic and stupid and _Merlin_ it hurt so much to even think or breathe sometimes.

Why did it have to be so hard? What where they going to –

BANG!

"Sebastian!"

Harry's heart stopped beating and before he could even speculate as to what just happened; he heard the horrifying sound of Tom screaming. And worse, just as suddenly, Tom's screams was abruptly cut short.

It felt like a bucket of ice was thrown over Harry as Harry paled considerably. His body moved without even thinking, running down the stairs from the kitchen to the store at the bottom where Tom was sleeping. Where he was supposed to be sleeping.

He made his way to the final step, taking several steps at a time while fear gripped his heart, and Harry felt dizzy at how fast this was happening.

An image of a dead Tom was supplied by his imagination before a hand gripped his shoulder hard from behind and yanked him backwards. He fell against a man's chest and an arm wrapped its way around his neck, putting pressure on his throat. A wand jabbed him under his jaw.

Oh _hell_.

Without even thinking, something that he'd regret later, Harry began to struggle against his attacker and finally rammed an elbow against his gut. At the same time, he twisted round to whack the same elbow into the man's face. He let go of Harry and fell to the ground with a surprised _"oof!"_

"Tom!" Harry called out. Where was he? Who was this man?

There was no answer back.

The man from behind him had gotten up now, wiping at a blooded nose as two more men followed him from behind.

"You're going to pay for that, you stupid boy!" the injured man proclaimed and lunged towards Harry, not even bothering with his wand anymore.

"Where is my brother?" Harry shouted back as the man grabbed him by his jumper and smacked hard against the wall. The sound of his skull meeting the brick wall brought stars to Harry's eyes.

"You're pathetic little brother?" said one of the men, and Harry noticed they were all masked and covered from head to toe; only mocking eyes peeking through. "We've killed him, haven't we, dad?"

Harry's attacker laughed as Harry howled; anger and depression sinking in. "That we did, my son."

"You're lying! You haven't – "

The attacker smacked him once across his mouth. "Did I say you could speak?"

Harry could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth as his teeth cut against his lip. What was going on? "Please, what do you want? I have nothing –"

"Shut up!" another smack.

"One more word out of you," the son said, voice rising, "and I will kill you myself."

But Harry was passed caring now. "Where is Tom!" he shouted, anger urging him to act. They were lying; they had to be lying. All his hard work –

"Are you stup –?"

Several things happened at this point, things that Harry wouldn't be able to recall clearly later on, but there was one thing that he did know. His magic was frighteningly out of control when he was an emotional _wreck_.

It started like a match being lit, small at first, but quickly escalating. Harry had no other choice but to let go.

Pure magic left his body in tendrils, flicking and curling around his assailant before seeming to explode out of the pores of his skin. Blood splattered in front of him as the once whole man's skin started ripping, the clothing shredding as he screamed and screamed. The magic stank like death yet fresh as nectar, suffocating the air like heavy smog.

Harry could vaguely hear someone else entering the shop – wasn't the shop closed? – and the man's son running towards him.

Merlin, who needed a _wand?_

It felt like freedom. It felt like desperation was a liquid running through his vessels; supplying him with more cause to hurt and rip and shred. Harry lifted one hand up, breathing faster as magic dulled the logical side of his thoughts, and sent several books on the floor straight towards the attackers, logs from the fireplace joined soon after already on fire. Potted plants, chairs and a table raced towards the assailants. The men ducked and tried to cover and then –

"Sebastian!"

Sebastian? Who was Sebastian? Harry looked up towards the voice and saw a little boy standing by the stairs. Why was he so familiar? He was cut and bloodied and he was wearing the most mismatched clothes Harry had ever seen, but even those where familiar, too.

_**Why stop now, Harry? We've only just begun.**_

"Please, stop, Sebastian," the little boy said, desperation in his voice.

_**They deserve more pain than that, Harry!**_

Wait –

"Tom?" Harry blinked heavily pushing the thoughts of Voldemort away (or were they his thoughts now?) as he finally recognised the face, the hair, the voice, and those terrified eyes.

"Yes, please do stop, Sebastian," said a heavily-accented voice and Harry was drawn over to the shop door were a man was standing, a cunning yet excited smile gracing his lips. He wore the same grey clothing as the other men except his face was bare for all to see.

Frowning lightly, Harry tried to straighten his thoughts. Where more attackers coming in?

The stranger took a step forward so that light could better illuminate his face.

Tom gasped.

* * *

**AN:** Well, I'm back :) Though I was never really away, like I mentioned in the previous author's note in chapter 7, August and September would be very difficult for me. It was completely out of my hands. In fact October is going to be just as hard so again, please be patient with me. Thanks to those who stuck through with me. I will NOT abandon this story - this is my baby and I plan to be there till the end. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I will hopefully be uploading the next one soon-ish.

One question for you guys: if somebody took a child's hand and put it in your hand and said to you "this child has the potential of becoming Hitler" what would you do? We know how Harry is doing it, but I would love to hear other ways that people would have dealt with it. Ciao, for now.


	9. Chapter 9 The Choices We Make

**A Chance in Time**

**Chapter 9 – The Choices We Make**

It felt like Sebastian was in the top part of the shop for an awfully long time to just be "making sure all the doors and windows were locked" and Tom was getting worried. They hadn't been at the bookstore long but it was long enough for Tom to start getting claustrophobic with its tiny space and cave-like feel.

After Sebastian had made them those delicious sandwiches and that lovely pot of tea, he had quickly tided up and took the cutlery upstairs. When it got _too_ silent, Tom called out to his brother who replied that he was just doing a thorough run-down of the store. So Tom left him to it. But now Tom wished that he had went upstairs with him.

_He's been there for ages and ages now,_ thought Tom worriedly. He shook his head exasperatedly and rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Why he was worried, he couldn't justify. Honestly, sometimes he could be such a _baby_.

_Grow up, Freak. He hasn't left you, yet._ It seemed like he was never going to lose his insecurities when it came to his brother, but that was to be expected. Who would have thought that crazy Tom Riddle even had a family? Not Tom, that's for sure.

It was time to put more trust into Sebastian, how else where they going to get through the mess they were in? Tom had never put any type of trust in anyone before – that kind of stuff was better left for fairytales and dreams. It didn't exist, not from where he was from anyway, and to be perfectly honest, Tom considered the action of putting so much _trust_ into someone a very scary thought indeed.

_It must hurt,_ Tom thought pensively, _it must hurt if the trust turns out all for nought, wouldn't it? If the person you put your whole trust on stabs you in the back?_

Tom's thoughts faded as the day's escapades caught up with him and he finally succumbed to sleep. The boy had never experienced being _this_ tired before. His whole body seemed to relax even while lying on the hard floorboards, his face titled gratefully at the warmth that the flickering fire, that Sebastian had lit, provided.

Tom dreamed.

He knew it was a dream almost instantly, because Ms Cole was there, standing in front of the orphanage and Tom knew that she was still in the _old _world – the world were no magic existed. She smiled kindly at him and ruffled his hair affectionately, which in itself was the most _craziest_ part of the dream. If there was one person on Earth that Ms Cole wanted dead; it was Tom and that was a fact.

It was at this point that Tom saw Sebastian standing very far away from him, his back towards him. He stood still on a small hill that Tom remembered was where he first had a good look at Wool's Orphanage all those years ago. There were trees on both sides and opposite the orphanage, on the other side of the hill, was the main road. After Tom had batted away Ms Cole's hand, he turned to walk towards Sebastian, towards the bottom of the hill. But Sebastian couldn't see him.

So Tom called out to him, shouting his name over the distance that separated them, asking him to wait for him. And just when Tom thought Sebastian would never _hear_ him, he finally turned to look directly at Tom. Tom sighed, happy that his brother had finally heard him.

For a minute there, Tom thought Sebastian would never turn around for him.

But instead of walking towards Tom, Sebastian frowned, shook his head as if disbelievingly and pointed straight at Tom.

"What?" Tom mouthed, why was Sebastian pointing at him? "What is it?"

Sebastian dropped his hand. "Turn around," he whispered and the dream-wind carried his quiet words towards Tom.

Tom was confused. Yes, he _knew_ that the orphanage was behind him, Sebastian didn't need to tell him _that_. He didn't care. He wasn't going to look back; he was going to look forward. Towards Sebastian.

Sebastian shook his head angrily this time, and repeated his words again, slower this time. "Turn around."

Despite it being a very weird idea, Tom did as he was told and turned around. At the same time, a large hand grabbed his shoulder from behind.

Tom woke up.

The harsh grip on his shoulder was enough to bruise and Tom gasped at the sudden contact. Confusion flooded his mind as he tried to wake his half-asleep brain up.

Was Ms Cole really _here_?

"Get up, you mongrel!" shouted a gruff voice in Tom's ear. That _definitely_ didn't sound like Ms Cole. Reality rushed towards him like a train. Tom had fallen asleep on the floor of the bookshop. Tom was being attacked.

This part wasn't a dream.

Who was this person? Was it the owner? Sebastian never told him who the owner of the shop was and he was sure Sebastian had said that they had the store for the night.

"Let me go!" cried Tom frantically as the man pulled him forward by the front of his jumper. Tom finally saw the covered face of his attacker and the green crackling light that sparked from the wand in his grip. Behind him two more men entered the bookshop, one of them sending a blast of magic in the air. It glittered a grey colour and had a sound so loud that Tom was sure the floor vibrated.

BANG!

"Sebastian!" Tom shouted, realisation dawning through. They had come to hurt him. Or worse; kill him. But why?

And why did their masks look so familiar?

The man smacked him across his face, hard enough to disorientate him. Hard enough for Tom to see stars and he screamed. The man pushed him against the wall and Tom's underfed body connected with the brick wall with a sickening smack. Nausea swirled in his stomach. His scream was cut short.

"Is he here alone, dad?" asked the second man.

"Doesn't sound like it," the first man said and Tom could hear the smirk in his words. "There's a 'Sebastian' somewhere in the shop, Elden. Why don't you be a good soldier and fetch him for me?"

Guilt sunk into his gut like cement. He'd gotten Sebastian into danger!

Elden laughed jovially. "Anything for my dear father."

"Get on with it, you sill boy," laughed the third man. "_He'll_ be here soon, you don't want to be caught messing about on a raid, do you?"

"I'll run upstairs, then -"

Elden suddenly cried out as Tom threw a book at his head. He was glad that they had quickly forgotten about him, but there's no way he was going to let them get his brother!

"You little twerp!" cried Elden through gritted teeth, lunging for the boy.

"Just leave it, will you?" said the third man. "I'm guessing this Sebastian fellow is more of a threat than this scrawny thing is. So just go upstairs and get him!"

He was _not_ scrawny!

"But, Jack, you saw what he did!" Elden shouted, already he had two hands wrapped around Tom's neck. And he _squeezed_.

Tom started to flail; panic and desperation pumping his heart faster. He whimpered as another bank-handed smack cut his lip and his ears started ringing.

But he couldn't let them win, could he? It took him long enough to be where he was now – out of the orphanage – and the least he could do was fight. For himself and for Sebastian. He had a choice. He had to look forward. Towards Sebastian.

So Tom bit hard onto piece of skin between the man's thumb and forefinger, and he didn't stop until he could taste the coppery tang of blood and Elden's scream so close to his face. The man dropped him onto the floor to cradle his hand while the third attacker, Jack, stepped up to kick Tom hard against his stomach.

"Oi! What you playing at, mudblood!"

Tom managed to sit up onto his knees and he quickly crawled to the corner of the room where he tried and tried to stop the nausea from building up, because he was sure he was going to vomit right here –

Tom vomited. The partly digested cheese sandwich he just ate erupted from his throat as if it was ripped out of his stomach and Tom whimpered again.

The men laughed, smacking their thighs and elbowing each other to make sure that the other had seen Tom's little spectacle.

"Stupid mudblood!" the big one mocked.

"I'll leave you with this filth, shall I, gentlemen?" Elden's father said. "I'm going to go find this 'Sebastian'."

Tom's vision swam at the idea of Sebastian in danger. All because of him.

"Right you are," said Elden, "and we'll stay right here and make the little bugger feel better, give him some medicine." They all laughed again and Tom was reminded of the orphanage. He was reminded of being pushed around, being called a Freak, crawling up to his room blooded and bruised after a terrible day. And he would do it all again the next day.

These men were bullies and they were intimidating Tom way better than any orphan child at Wool's, that's for sure.

_They probably had years of practise though,_ thought Tom through the muddle in his head.

Tom kept quiet and watched Elden's father walk up the stairs as the two remaining men crowded around him. And when the third man came near enough, Tom used all his strength to kick him hard in the groin.

He didn't wait for the up-coming scream or curses or magic to be thrown at him. Breathing fast and heart beating wildly, he got up and ducked under the big oak desk near the front of the shop. It wasn't long before he heard the man's shocked howl and felt a pair of feet stomp around the shop for him.

"Where did he go?" Tom heard Elden's young voice ask angrily. "Here, little mudblood, where'd you run of to, eh?"

Several thoughts ran through Tom's mind as the masked man, Elden, walked about the shop in his quest to find Tom and…

…and kill him?

Tom shook his head and bit his lip; he clenched his fits so hard that little red, crescent moons formed into the palm of his hands. Tom had never been so afraid. And where was Sebastian? Had the other man gotten him yet? Was Sebastian dead?

_No!_ Tom thought, _Sebastian is strong. Sebastian can fight. Sebastian is never afraid!_ As thoughts ran across his mind, Tom found himself doubting it as soon as he thought of it: Sebastian had regular panic attacks. Would he really be able to hold himself together?

Should Tom run upstairs to try to save him? But Tom couldn't bring himself to get up from under the desk; he was too afraid. He was too cautious. And what if Elden and Jack caught him?

What then?

Suddenly, he heard a pair of running feet coming down the stairs to meet him and the attackers at the floor of the shop. A few seconds later, Tom could distinguish some sort of scuffle and then Sebastian's voice as he called out to Tom.

Tom felt his heart soar. Sebastian was alive and he was looking for him. Sebastian was worried for him!

"Tom!" Sebastian called out and Tom almost replied to him, to tell him that he was alright –

"You're going to pay for that, you stupid boy!" Tom could see Elden's father throw Sebastian against the wall, the same way he did to Tom. He felt anger mix in with his fear, urging him to fight the attackers but wanting to also be safe. In the end, though, when the attackers lied and said that Tom was dead, it was Sebastian that made his mind up for him.

Tom had never seen something so dark before. It seemed that the attackers had never either. Whatever magic had erupted from Sebastian was something that ripped the breath out of their lungs, it shook their thoughts out their minds, it made them gasp as the feeling of being smothered by something so strong completely overwhelmed them.

It took a moment for Tom to realise that it was actually Sebastian that was doing this – worse than the way he did it to Mr Malfoy before – that Sebastian was indiscriminatingly lashing out with his magic. Objects seemed to gravitate towards the attackers and Tom hoped and hoped that Sebastian would finally stop. And it took another moment to realise that Sebastian didn't know that he was there, hiding under the desk. That Sebastian didn't know what he was _doing_ to his brother…

Tom couldn't _breathe_.

"Sebastian!" Tom called out; his voice muffled against the bang, smash and screams echoing in the cramped space of Book Ends. Why couldn't he just stop?

And then Sebastian turned to look at him. He looked directly at him, like he did in his dream: confused, shocked and muddled. Why was he looking at him like that? What was wrong with him?

Tom stood up slowly from under the desk and tried his hardest to breathe as best as he could, he tried to stop the tremors running down his body, but _God, _it was _so difficult._

"Please, stop, Sebastian," he begged, his voice sounding weak and faint. He gripped the table with one hand, while the other slowly reached out to his brother. He could see the blood seeping from one of the attacker's skin – from his pores and his eyes and ears, and another attacker leaning over him whispering and whimpering over and over. The third was lying still on the floor, his eyes shut…

Had Sebastian killed tonight?

"Tom?" Sebastian asked, his own voice light and slurred. Confusion was written all over his face. But Tom didn't have time to ask him if he was alright, because he finally noticed that another attacker had entered the shop floor. That he was there the whole time Sebastian had let his power run free.

"Yes, please do stop, Sebastian," the stranger said and he took a step forward.

It didn't take long for Tom to recognise the intruder and he couldn't help the gasp that left his lips. He ran towards his still brother and grabbed his wrists and hands with both of his own hands. Sebastian didn't make a sound, his body still faced Tom, but his head had swivelled to his right to look at the man that entered.

Tom's eyes never left the imposing figure of Gellert Grindelwald. He had only seen his picture once – that very evening – but his form and his story was enough to imprint itself into Tom's mind.

What was such a man doing in such a place? As curious as Tom was, he would rather run with his and his brother's lives than sit around and ask questions.

Sebastian didn't seem to care or even react. He didn't move an inch or even show any signs of recognising the man. Unlike Tom, he didn't seem at all fazed by the dramatic entrance of one of the worst criminals the Wizarding World had ever known.

Gellert Grindelwald was a tall man; he had clear blue eyes that seemed to be constantly mocking anything in his sight. He didn't seem at all worried about the other three men on the floor that wore the same grey uniform as he did. But the uniform weren't completely the same: Grindelwald didn't seem worried about exposing his face, the hardness of his features, the strong nose, that smirking mouth, the raised eyebrow. He didn't seem at all concerned that his identity was on for show. And according to the article that Tom read, Gellert Grindelwald did not fear anyone.

_He has nothing to fear, _Tom thought. _Didn't the article say that he was one of the strongest wizards in Wizarding Britain?_

Grindelwald confidently looked at them then at – what Tom supposed was – his men. He was their leader wasn't he? He was brutal and cold and he had already set his whole life into politics before he even left school. He wanted to change the world.

Tom's fear suddenly heightened: he and his brother were no threat, surely?

The man's eyes were only focused on Sebastian and without even realising it; Tom positioned himself in front of his brother. At this, Grindelwald's smirk only grew bigger.

"How sweet," he said condescendingly, that accent prominent in his voice again. Was it German? Tom couldn't tell. "Do you really think you can fight me?"

Tom hated that the man was amused at Tom's attempt at bravery, how he belittled him.

Tom felt Sebastian lean forward against him and he realised, after taking a quick look at his brother's face, that he looked incredibly tired. Sebastian's face was blank, his eyes half-lidded, lips a thin line.

Had using all that magic used up his energy? Was it really up to Tom?

When Tom didn't reply, Grindelwald continued to speak and Tom couldn't understand any of it. "Where is she?"

Silence passed as Tom waited for Sebastian to answer back, Grindelwald eyes fixated only on Sebastian.

"Where is who?" Sebastian asked, voice so light that the blond man took a step forward to hear him better.

Grindelwald smiled so that his canine teeth pressed against his bottom lip. "Trelawney, of course."

Tom felt Sebastian stiffen behind him and he wondered if he was referring to the old woman that owned the bookstore. "You're not related to that old bat, are you? She has a son and a daughter, both of which are old enough to have children. So you can't be hers; I would have known about _you_…" When Sebastian stayed silent, Grindelwald continued again. "Who are you?"

Sebastian didn't utter a word, but lifted one hand to rest against Tom's shoulder. From Grindelwald's prospective, it looked like one brother trying to comfort another. But in reality, Sebastian had leaned even further against Tom so that the eight year-old was carrying more of his weight.

Was Sebastian alright?

"I am no-one," Sebastian paused. "We are no-one."

Grindelwald took another step forward so that if he wanted to, he could stretch out his hand and touch Tom on his shoulder. Tom shuddered at the sudden proximity and behind him so did Sebastian. Tom took a minuscule of a step back so that he was pressed closer to his older brother; being so close to Grindelwald had a major disadvantage on his already muddled thoughts. Though he couldn't say _how_, Tom could actually smell his magic.

"Ah," the powerful man said, "but you _are_ someone. Someone with magic strong enough to disarm three of my best men. Three grown men who have spent years perfecting their magic, who have brought down Aurors and giants and mudbloods. You _are_ someone." For a second, Tom thought Grindelwald looked like he was thinking very hard and very fast, a small frown creased between his eyebrows.

Tom found himself wondering about every time Sebastian had used magic, how he rarely used his wand and how easy it was for him to gain the upper hand. Was his magic _really_ strong? Or was Grindelwald mocking them again?

"You must be confused. We are no-one," Sebastian said again, slowly, quietly. Why wasn't Sebastian afraid the way _he _was?

The older man folded his arms across his chest and stared at Sebastian before slowly stretching out a black leather-gloved hand forward and lifting the hair from Sebastian's forehead. Tom gasped and Sebastian's hand on his shoulder gripped him tightly, preventing him from moving. Preventing him from doing anything foolish.

"What an unusual mark you have, boy," Grindelwald whispered, lips hardly moving. Tom and Sebastian remained stock-still and Tom clenched his jaw so tightly that he was afraid his teeth were going to crumble.

Grindelwald smiled when Sebastian didn't say anything. "Too inflamed to be new, and too fresh to be old. A curse scar perhaps? Hmm…" he whispered again, it was like he was thinking out aloud to himself. Tom could hear movements behind him and was surprised when Grindelwald still hadn't ordered his men to attack. "Portkey back, Elden," he said slightly louder, never taking his eyes off the scar. "Do the same for your father and Jack."

"Y-yes, my Lord," Tom heard a chocked voice say and some movement but neither of the two boys dared to look behind them.

"Where did you learn magic like that, boy?" he asked, his attention unwaveringly focused on Sebastian.

Sebastian shook his head. "I didn't."

Grindelwald frowned pensively, "are you saying that you were born with this magic? What is your bloodline? Who are your parents?"

"We don't have parents," Tom blurted out. His voice was quiet but the whole shop could hear it.

There was silence for a while, silence that was spent on thinking about the consequences of Grindelwald's next decision.

"I see," he said at last. No emotion was evident on his face, he still remained imposing and bold and powerful. How could be so stoic at a time like this?

_What's going through this mind right now?_ Tom wondered worriedly. _What is he thinking?_

Grindelwald cocked his head to one side, still assessing them, still thinking. "Send the old bat my regards, won't you?" Grindelwald said, finally dropping his hand from Sebastian's forehead.

Was that it? Where they going to live? Tom's heart was beating so fast that he was sure the others could hear it.

"But, my Lord!" Elden cried, "they attacked us! They almost killed us!"

Grindelwald remained quiet for so long that Tom thought he was ignoring Elden. Finally, he spoke, "Yes, they did just that, Elden," his lips curled angrily at him. "And how do you feel about that, hm? Being bested by _mere boys_?"

The boys in question could hear Elden mutter and slip over his words, but in the end Grindelwald's angry stare silenced him. "Leave," he said, "now. And we will discuss your failures later!"

"Yes, my L-Lord! My apologies!"

As Elden went back to 'portkey back', Grindelwald's eyes went back to the boys. "I hope to see you very soon, boys," he placed one hand on Tom's head as if to pat his hair and smirked. "Very, very soon."

And with that, Grindelwald disappeared.

* * *

**AN:** According to my research (correct me if I'm wrong), Grindelwald's war period was not stated in any of the books by JK Rowling, so I'm going to assume that, for the sake of this story, Grindelwald began his terror before Tom started Hogwarts. It was 1945 when Grindelwald was at the top of his game, when Dumbledore finally stopped the war.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Epitome of War

Sorry for any typos! Enjoy!

**A Chance in Time**

**Chapter 10 – The Epitome of War**

Tom exhaled loudly, as if he was holding his breath all that time that Grindelwald and his men were here, as if he'd forgotten how to breathe. His eyes closed, hiding troubled dark green eyes as he coached his lungs to work. He had never been so afraid, never, _never_ in his entire life did he feel so close to death.

But he lived. _They _lived. He didn't know how, he didn't know _why_ Grindelwald changed his mind, but – he tilted his head back to look at his still tense brother's face – he had an inkling that Sebastian's burst of uncontrolled magic had something to do with it.

Speaking of which…

Stepping up towards the front of the shop, he inched towards the door and shut it. Locked it from the inside. He turned around, resting his back against the door and observed the damage made. And what a sight it was.

New and old books alike were strewn haphazardly on the floor, on the stairs. Parchments were burned, or singed or crumpled. A few shelves were ripped from the wall by whatever force that had exploded from Sebastian. Logs, thankfully unlit, lay in bits, crunching under his feet. Blood splattered the wooden floor and the blue walls and one side of Sebastian's pale, pale face…There was no way that the bookshop owner would come back and be unable to guess that something extraordinary had happened tonight.

Walking hesitantly towards his brother, Tom took in his form: his eyes were hooded making it almost impossible to see the emerald green of his eyes. He had no expression on his face, only a tense clench of his jaw.

"Sebastian?" Tom began. "Are you alright? You look – " he paused so that he could reach out his hands and grip the front of Sebastian's jumper. "You look very tired."

Sebastian frowned slowly and blinked as if for a second he had forgotten where he was. "I _am_ tired, Tommy," he whispered back, his voice sounding hoarse like he'd been screaming or shouting. He licked his lips and pushed back inky black hair from his forehead, exposing the red-raw scar. "I think," he said, lightly placing both of his hands on Tom's narrow shoulders, "I think I just need to rest. I used too much magic too soon, maybe. I don't know –"

"It's alright, Sebastian. I understand," Tom said and he _did_. He remembered the magic he used when confronting Mr Malfoy, that _had_ to be a lot of magic. It wasn't like the nice practiced swish-swish and flick that he saw Lady Malfoy use when healing Abraxas' cuts and bruises. No, not even a little. Sebastian's magic was full-blown. It was addictive. It was nauseating. Tom had never seen anything like it. And then Sebastian had to use that powerful magic again the same day when he faced Grindelwald's men.

Tom pushed against his brother's chest so that Sebastian was forced to take a step back, and then another step until the back of his legs touched a rocking chair near the big counter. Sebastian sat down heavily, rocking the chair back until it smacked lightly against the wall.

"What can I do?" Tom asked. "Shall I get you some medicine?" What did he call it before? A potion? Did they even have any potions here?

Sebastian didn't react. His eyes were shut now and his body was no longer tense – it was relaxed. When Sebastian didn't answer, Tom shook his shoulder, confusion settling in. Was Sebastian – ?

Oh.

Asleep. He was asleep.

And now Tom was alone again. Sebastian was gone and it was up to _him_ to clean up the mess they made in the shop. It was up to him to find some _potions_ to heal his brother and fix the cuts on his own face and –

What was he going to do?

The answer didn't come however; instead, the shop door clicked open and in stepped in a woman.

_Oh no._

oOo

Ingrid Trelawney was not one for being shocked too easily, nor would she have had described herself as stoic; but when she entered the Shop that Friday morning to find it in a battered state…well, she was quite _shocked_. She was used to her shop being attacked, of course – no sane witch or wizard liked to associate themselves with the Trelawney family; not when they had been labelled dangerous all those years ago. Not when Cassandra Trelawney made so many apt prophecies, prophecies that awed but frightened them. It seemed that sometimes, the truth was very hard to hear.

Ingrid wasn't distinguished the way her grandmother was, the woman who was celebrated for having the Inner Eye, for being a Seer. The main reason was because Ingrid liked to keep to herself. She preferred it that way, and she rarely let anyone into her life. Especially since her poor Landon died. Especially since Grindelwald started hunting her down. Her Seeing ability was a curse as well as a gift.

Despite all this, she couldn't help hiring that strange boy only a week ago to help out at the shop. He was nothing special but Ingrid was talented in reading people. And that boy was desperate. The way she was when no one wanted to hire a Seer for fear of having their death prophesised.

Honestly, as if they were so important.

There was something else about the boy, too. She couldn't place her finger on it, but she knew one thing. His _soul_ was damaged. His very soul was irrevocably and thoroughly _damaged_.

Unfortunately, now that the boy had entered her life, it was up to her to keep a close eye on him. It wouldn't do for his damaged soul to affect his magical core. The Wizarding World wasn't ready for another insane Dark Lord. And most importantly, _Ingrid _wasn't ready for another insane Dark Lord.

She had enough on her plate.

oOo

Tom stilled in his ministrations at the sight of the stranger entering the Shop. She didn't seem to react and Tom found himself expecting _something_ to happen with bated breath. A scream, or a gasp – anything. But she didn't react.

The boy's hands shook as he waited and eventually after the woman had done a sweep of the shop, she finally stopped still in front of Tom.

"What are you doing in my shop?" she asked gruffly and Tom gulped nervously. He wasn't stupid, he knew they weren't exactly invited but what should he tell her? _Yes, we knew we were essentially breaking in, but we did it anyway? _No, it wasn't that had no other choice, what were they supposed to do? Camp outside in the freezing cold until their toes fell off?

For some reason the words wouldn't come, for some reason they were lodged in his throat and Tom started shaking in expectation of the women's anger.

"Grindelwald was here, wasn't he?" she finally asked, frowning at him and cocking her head to one side. Tom thought she resembled a bird like that. A bird with wild, white-grey hair and piercing eyes that looked like they were seeing directly into his soul.

Wordlessly, Tom nodded. The woman sighed as if she had expected as much. She didn't seem afraid or angry or excited – if anything she looked more resigned about cleaning up.

"Well, let's see the damage then," she said reaching behind Tom towards the bookshelves. She picked up a book on one of the top most shelves and opened it to reveal a small shred of parchment hidden inside. The woman suddenly grinned.

"The man needs to hire new goons; they're getting terribly bad at getting the job done," she said and Tom wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or simply thinking out aloud. Before he could even attempt to crane his neck to have a look at what the shred of parchment read, the old woman had already stuffed the nude-coloured parchment – or was it a piece of leather? - into her large multi-coloured bag hanging off her arm, and turned to face him.

The dark-haired boy stood stock-still while she assessed him; she took in the superficial cuts and grazes and bruises that decorated his face and forearms and tiny little fingers and tutted almost pitifully. Slowly, she lifted up his chin with a finger and thumb to stare unwaveringly into his eyes.

"You weren't scared, were you?" she asked suddenly. Tom didn't want to admit it but yes, yes he _was_ very scared. But Tom wanted her to think that he was brave, he wasn't sure why – and maybe it was because Sebastian was unconscious and it was up to Tom to do the thinking now – but he really, _really_ didn't want the woman to underestimate him.

"You are Trelawney," he said instead and the woman smirked, dropping his chin. He hoped that he pronounced the name right.

"So the mad fool _has_ been busy, hm?" she said in answer and smiled slowly.

"He was looking for you. He said, he said…"

Trelawney suddenly let out a bark of laughter, short and cynical. "He is _always _looking for me, that snake!"

Tom gulped, why wasn't she afraid of that man? That horrid, dangerous, frightening man? "My brother, um, my brother - Sebastian - he works for you, he -"

"He is asleep."

"No," Tom said almost angrilly. "I mean, he's…um…unwell. He single-handedly stopped Grindelwald. He -"

"He stopped Grindelwald?" She cut him off, eyes wide and shocked. Suddenly she threw back her head and laughed. This laugh lasted longer than the last one and looked like it was being ripped out of her tummy! She clutched her chest, as if finding it difficult to breathe, and laughed and coughed when it became too much.

"Oh, dear me! And what did the old fool do to your brother?" When Tom stood shocked and unable to reply, she continued. "Does your brother have a death wish or something?"

The old woman watched as Tom suddenly paled, as if all the blood disappeared from his skin. His lips parted as he tried to bring the words forward, to explain to her that she was wrong - that Sebastian wasn't afraid of that. But instead his lips trembelled and his whole body shook.

He blinked rapidly as he suddenly felt a hotness in his eyes. And _no_ he was _not, not_ going to cry. But before he could mask it, a small chocked sob escaped him. Too many thoughts were scrambling into his head, none of which were pleasant at the very idea that Grindelwald could take it all away from him.

"_No_," he stated firmly through gritted teeth as he willed the lump in his throat to disappear. He whimpered unsure what to do now - he wasn't usually a cry baby. He was just shocked and hurt and suddenly very alone all over again. If something happened to Sebastian – if something happened and he had to go back to…to _that_ place…

Trelawney stared at the boy, her eyes wide and mouth twisted into a grimace. She was clearly uncomfortable. And worse; so was Tom.

"Alright, dear," the woman began, "there's's need for any of that, I'm sure." She reached out a hand to awkwardly pat his shoulder. "Come on, now. Let's see if we can sort this mess out, eh?"

Tom sniffled and nodded acceptingly.

He stared as the deceptively fragile woman as she quickly took out the wand sticking out of her bag. Eyebrows forrowed with determination, she got to work as Tom watched dumbly in one corner of the shop. He watched as logs for the fire disappeared, how the stains on the floor dissolved (though he didn't imagine the raised eyebrow at the blood splatter) and was tranfixed at the sight of furniture moving around the room to their original positions.

Despite himself, Tom was amazed at the demonstration.

"How –?" Tom began quietly, he shook his head; magic was truly amazing. "I can help. Please let me help."

Trelawney smiled, eyes still fixed on the damage done, her back to Tom. "A bit young to be able to hold a wand aren't you?"

Tom frowned perplexed. Didn't all witches and wizards possess a wand? Young or old, rich or poor? He bet Abraxas had an expensive one, he bet Marcus from the bakery had a two because he was always _so rushed. _He bet -

"How old are you, any way?" The woman enquired and Tom lost his train of thought.

"Um...I'm eight, ma'am."

She chuckled with sampathy. "Oh, you've got a few more years on you before you start Hogwarts, boy. But I suppose -" and here she sneaked a peak at Tom's unconscious big brother "- I suppose you could make a start with learning a few things..."

Tom had no idea what Hogwarts was, but nodded quickly to the idea of learning magic. Gosh, he'd always thought his brother would be the first to teach him; like how to hold a wand (would you grip it like a pencil or like Ms Cole's cane?). And how to remember all those swishing and flicking and jabbing. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his sleeve impatiently. Suddenly Tom was excited at _anyone _teaching him anything related to making magic, even if he was a bit sorry that Sebastian wasn't going to be that person -

"You'll have start with theory first, though," the old woman said pushing a errant lock of wild frizzy hair from her bright eyes.

Theory? Like reading and reading until your head exploded? _That _kind of theory? And Tom's thoughts were confirmed when after a bit of scrounging around, the old woman thrust a book under his nose

Tom's shoulders sagged and he sighed quietly. He knew it was too good to be true! Though he enjoyed reading - and he enjoyed it a lot - he had been thinking about practicing magic since he had arrived in this new world! Slowly, as if waiting for her to change her mind and give him a wand instead, Tom reached out to take the heavy tomb from her grasp.

"You sit, boy, and I'll see if we can wake up your lazy brother."

The dark-haird boy brisstled at the description. His brother was not lazy! She had no idea the kind of things Sebastian did for them.

Seeing the expression on his face, Trelawney chuckled. "Don't get your nickers in a bunch! I'll be careful with him!" She chortled all the way towards the end of the room to reach Sebastian's sprawled form on the large brown rocking chair. "Lazy boy, indeed!"

She pointed the end of her wand towards his chest and tapped him. "_Enervate_."

Tom watched fascinated as his brother took a large gulp of air as if breathing for the first time. His arms, on either side of the rocking chair, no longer lax gripped the armrests hard enough to turn his knuckles white. His eyelashes fluttered and finally opened slowly. Tom heard him mumble something - which could have also been a groan - and shifted a little in his seat.

Without realizing, Tom found his feet dragging himself to Sebastian's now awake form.

"Ah! Not too close!" cried Trelawney before Tom could reach out towards his brother's hand. "Not until I've examined him."

The young wizard could only stare helplessly as she threw Latin word after Latin word all doing a variety of things to Sebastian's body. A red pulsing sphere danced before Sebastian's chest in time to his heartbeat. A gold translucent thread weaved between one of Sebastian's fingers and rested above a gash on his arm. A tinkling bell could be heard surrounding his shins and slowly rising towards his neck.

"Wha-?" mumbled Sebastian and Tom could see how confused he was. Should he explain it to him? Or should he wait to see if he remembered the events himself? It didn't take long for the latter to happen and the transformation in his brother's face was almost instantaneous.

His eyes widened in comprehension, whilst simultanously brushing away a blue cobweb-like spell that brushed the crown of his head. His mouth shut hard and he clenched his jaw.

"Oi! At least let me finish examining you, you silly boy!" Trelawney exclaimed. "From what I heard, you had a rough encounter."

Tom watched as his brother squinted up at the old woman's haggard face before finding the strength to stand up slowly. _Like an old man_, thought Tom.

Trelawney tried again; "Sit back down, will you?" her hand on Sebastian's upper arm. "You don't want to faint again, do you?" she didn't wait for his reply; instead, she gently pushed him back on the rocking chair.

"Fine," Sebastian whispered in a breathy way, "fine." His eyes were half-closed when one of his hands slowly reached out towards Tom and pulled him closer. Tom couldn't help noticing how slack the hold was, how his hands were shaking, and the dark bruises under his brother's eyes as they did their own examination.

"Are you alright?" Sebastian asked as Trelawney went up the stairs to retrieve a few things for him. He didn't mention the previous events, he didn't complain about his hurts; it was as if it was a normal morning.

Tom nodded wordlessly in affirmation and allowed Sebastian to lift him up and place him on his lap. Tom laid his head under Sebastian's chin and they both waited for Trelawney to begin her healing.

If Sebastian wanted to pretend that nothing happened, then Tom would humour him.

For now.

oOo

Trelawney had banished Tom to one corner of the room as she continued to examine Harry. She had given Tom _A Beginners Guide to Household Charms_ by Sweety Gladrow, to which the eight-year old had scrunched his nose up at, and began filling Harry up with a number of potions and skin relievers. She began with a Replenishing Potion for his sudden magical depletion (and Harry was glad of it), a Calming Draught (even when Harry insisted that he was calm), and a paste to heal the burns that he acquired from a number of burning logs (and Harry pretended that Trelawney wasn't giving him a strange look when he explained this to her).

Finally, the woman's curiosity began to creep up and she began to throw question after question at him – none of which, and Harry was grateful for this, were about how and why Harry and Tom intruded into the shop in the first place.

"So what did Grindelwald want then?" she began and Harry answered by shrugging wearingly.

She sighed and tried again. "What did he say to you?"

"He sends his regards," Harry told her. He hoped that being difficult to talk to would mean that she would eventually tire of his not very helpful answers.

"Did he now?" Harry didn't deign to answer that. He had _said_ that Grindelwald told him that didn't he?

She patted his arm lightly; he had hurt it during the confrontation and couldn't remember how. "How is your arm feeling now?"

"S'fine. Thanks." And it was true; Trelawney certainly knew how to take care of wounds.

"And your headache. Still there?"

"Yes, but better. Thanks."

"And how did you sustain these injuries fighting Grindelwald and survive?"

Harry frowned confused. "Who said I fought Grindelwald?" he stopped himself and peered over at Tom who was pretending that he wasn't listening to the conversation and quickly looked away. Harry sighed. "I fought his men, not…_him_."

"Ah," the old woman said as if that explained that. _And maybe it did,_ thought Harry, _had it been a fight with Grindelwald it would have certainly ended differently._

Trelawney reached for a bruising balm to rub onto the side of his neck where thick-fingered black marks decorated his Adam's apple. Harry winced at the cold temperature and its rotten tomato-y stink.

"You're very calm about all this; most people would have run away screaming."

Harry thought about that and couldn't find an answer – he supposed that having Voldermort chasing him for so long had taken away any run-away-screaming traits he could have developed like most people.

"Must be the Calming Draught I gave you." Harry rolled his eyes; he hadn't _needed_ a Calming Draught.

Daft woman.

"Why did Grindelwald not kill you?"

Harry shrugged again. "He said he would see us soon." Harry gulped at the image of the blond man making that promise. At the time, Harry was too fuzzy-headed to think much about it. Now, however…

"You have a strange accent," she suddenly said.

"I do?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes. You're not from around here." It was a statement, not a question as if it was obvious that Harry was an outsider.

"No. I'm not from around here," Harry almost smirked at that, though a small smile did lift one corner of his lips as he thought of the strength of this statement. Was his accent so different from the one in the 1930's? "Muggle raised," he said instead in answer.

"And your Tom?"

"He's Muggle raised. I am Muggle raised. We are both Muggle raised."

She rolled her blue eyes at him. She continued to rub the bruising balm on his neck and he scrunched up his nose at the tickly feeling the healing solution gave when activating. It was most uncomfortable.

And, Merlin, it stank.

"You have a smart mouth, boy. I'd be careful if I were you."

"Okay," he said and unintentionally let out a surprised snort. This was completely surreal.

"Do you want a piece of advice?" she asked him suddenly.

Harry raised his eyebrows up until they disappeared into the fringe of his hair. "Um, to not have a smart mouth?" he guessed. From across the room, Harry could hear Tom giggle into his book. And somehow, he guessed that it wasn't because _A Beginners Guide to Household Charms_ was so amusing.

Harry felt a light smack against his temple from Trelawney. He gave her an amused look. She glared right back at him.

"If I were you, I would run to Albus Dumbledore and beg him to save you. Grindelwald is the epitome of war."

Suddenly, the smile on Harry's face was wiped off. "Really?" he asked, his voice quiet now as he contemplated her serious face.

She nodded gravely and almost pitifully. "You are only boys, you two."

"I can take care of both of us," Harry whispered. He had come this far, hadn't he?

"How old are you, Sebastian?" she asked, her head cocked to one side, assessing him. Always assessing him.

"Nineteen," Harry lied.

Trelawney frowned at him and simultaneously raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

"Eighteen?"

"Try again, boy," she said with a glare. Again, Harry could hear Tom trying to muffle a snort of laughter in his corner of the room.

"What does it matter?" Harry snapped. Grindelwald wouldn't catch them. "He won't find us again, I promise you th-"

"Why aren't you in Hogwarts?"

"What _is_ Hogwarts?" Tom suddenly asked, exasperated. "Everyone keeps mentioning it all the time…" he trailed off, realising that he had interrupted when he should have been acquainting himself with charms to remove lint from one's dress robes.

As if he' ever use _that_.

Trelawney ignored Tom's outburst and continued. "Has _he_ even shown any power to you?" she asked, nodding her frizzy head at the little boy.

Harry frowned. Was she referring to Tom? About Tom's magic? "I…" His frown deepened as he tried to remember a time where Tom had shown any type of magic.

"Not even accidental magic?" Trelawney asked disbelievingly. "At his age?" Harry wished she would stop talking; Tom was smart enough to pick up on the topic of the conversation.

"Are you talking about _me_?" the eight-year-old enquired quietly.

Again, Trelawney ignored his comment and focused her watery-blue eyes intensely on Harry's own bright green ones. "Be careful, Sebastian. Be careful so that you don't smother your brother's magic with your own uncontrolled, unschooled magic."

For once, Harry was shocked into silence.

* * *

A/N: Better late than never, eh? I'll try to answer everyone's questions. Apologies if I've missed anyone out; I try very hard not to :) Reviews are very much appreciated!


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